CHAPTER 85

  Ray reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘You’re doing great, Ollie,’ said Ray. ‘We’ll soon be in the car.’ He kissed him on the side of the head. ‘Keep your eyes tightly closed.’

  Laura looked into the sitting room and shuddered when she saw the bloody body sprawled over the sofa. ‘Don’t look,’ said Ray.

  ‘Too late,’ she said. She looked up at the television. Chelsea were putting the United defence under pressure. She looked for Gabe but couldn’t see him. Then she saw the score. Chelsea were winning 2-1.

  ‘Come on,’ said Ray. As he carried Ollie towards the front door he heard a noise in the kitchen, followed almost immediately by a scream from Laura. Ray twisted around. The heavy he’d hit in the kitchen was on his feet, running towards them with a carving knife held above his head. Ray fired instinctively and the bullet smacked into the man’s chest. The man kept coming but the second bullet hit him in the middle of his face and he dropped like a stone. Laura pressed herself against Ollie. Ray could feel her trembling. ‘You’re doing fine, Laura,’ he said. He holstered the Glock and hurried down the hall and out of the front door.

  CHAPTER 86

  Chelsea were on the attack but they weren’t making much progress, the ball had been passed more than a dozen times, backwards, forwards, side to side, and they hadn’t been able to take it beyond the half-way line.

  The United defence was waiting for them to make their move, and no one seemed to be in any hurry. Gabe took a quick look up at the clock on the score board. Ten past four. Thirty-five minutes to go, plus injury time. Gabe made a half-hearted run for the ball but it was passed back to the Chelsea defence.

  The crowd began to boo. One of the defenders kicked the ball high and long and it was trapped by one of the Chelsea mid-fielders who began his run down the middle of the pitch. Gabe was the closest to him and he ran at full pelt to intercept. They ran neck-and-neck for almost twenty yards and then Gabe stuck out his foot and tripped the man over. He hit the grass hard and rolled over several times. Gabe took possession of the ball but the referee was already blowing his whistle. Gabe stopped and raised his hands. The crowd whistled and cat-called as Chelsea prepared to take the free kick. Gabe wasn’t happy at having to foul the man, but it least it gave Chelsea time to regroup.

  Tim Maplethorpe jogged over to Gabe. ‘You ok?’ he asked.

  ‘Why?’ replied Gabe.

  ‘You seem…I don’t know… a bit tense.’

  ‘Fuck off, Tim.’

  Maplethorpe raised his hands in surrender. ‘Just asking,’ he said.

  ‘We’re 2-1 down, of course I’m tense,’ said Gabe. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. ‘I don’t like losing.’

  ‘Nobody does,’ said Maplethorpe. ‘But we can win this. We’re the better team, by far.’

  The referee blew his whistle and Chelsea took the kick. Gabe and Maplethorpe hared after the ball.

  CHAPTER 87

  Ray opened the back door of the Range Rover and helped Ollie onto the back seat. Laura climbed in next to her son and Ray slammed the door shut. He got into the front and started the engine. ‘Okay?’ he asked, taking a quick look over his shoulder. She nodded but didn’t reply. ‘Ollie, are you okay?’ The boy nodded solemnly.

  Ray put the car in gear and edged forward. He looked left and right. A white van and two cars drove by and then he pulled out and turned left.

  ‘So, Ollie, let’s go and see your dad, shall we?’ asked Ray. He looked in his rear-view mirror. He was pale and biting down on his lower lip, obviously still in shock, which wasn’t surprising considering what he’d been through. Laura put an arm protectively around her son.

  A white SUV was coming towards them and Ray kept the Range Rover over to the right. He glanced down at his speedometer. Just above forty. He reached over to tap on the SatNav and input the stadium as the destination. When he looked back he gasped as he saw the SUV had moved over into his lane. A second vehicle, a black Porsche SUV was in the other lane. Ray cursed and slammed on the breaks. Laura and Ollie weren’t wearing seatbelts and they were thrown forward. The tyres squealed and Ray knew they were going to hit the white SUV if he didn’t do something so he wrenched the steering wheel to the right and the Range Rover bucked across the grass verge before slamming into a hedge. The airbag went off, obscuring his vision. He twisted around in his seat. Ollie was on the floor behind the front passenger seat and Laura bent down to help him. ‘Are you okay?’ asked Ray.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Some idiot ran us off the road.’ He tried to deflate the airbag but it was like a living thing in his hands. He groped for the door handle with his right hand. Just as he found it the door was wrenched open. A Chinese heavy punched him in the face and then grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the vehicle. Ray tried to pull his arm away so that he could reach his gun but a second heavy had appeared and grabbed his left arm and twisted it. The two men had come from the white SUV. A third Chinese had stayed behind the wheel.

  Ray stamped on the foot of the man who was holding his right arm and was rewarded with a scream of pain, but the man didn’t release his grip. The second heavy kneed Ray in the stomach and the air exploded from his lungs. When he straightened up he saw that the Porsche SUV had pulled up behind the Range Rover. Ray could see Lee in the front passenger seat. The rear doors opened and two more Chinese heavies in leather jackets and jeans piled out. They ran to the Range Rover and pulled open the rear doors. ‘Laura!’ shouted Ray, but then he was kneed in the stomach again. He bent over in pain but he pulled his right arm in and the man fell against him. Ray thrust his elbow up and caught the man under the nose. The man grunted and released his grip. Ray kicked the man behind the knee and the man went down.

  The second heavy was holding Ray’s left wrist with both hands and his eyes widened when he saw what Ray had done to his colleague. Ray reached for his gun in its holster but the man was quicker than he expected and he kicked Ray in the chest. Ray fell back and the man sprang forward, throwing fast punches to Ray’s face. Ray blocked the first couple of blows but the third hit him on the chin and knocked him back.

  Ray blocked the next punch with his left hand and then pulled out his gun with the right. The heavy threw up his hands and screamed and Ray pulled the trigger. The gun clicked but there was no explosion and no recoil. The heavy grinned in triumph and then began throwing punches again. Ray dropped the gun and blocked as many of the blows as he could, keeping his hands high and his head low. He managed to get a jab to the man’s chin that knocked his head back, but he kept attacking.

  Ray heard Laura scream and he looked over at the Range Rover. The two heavies had pulled Laura and Ollie from the vehicle and were dragging them over to the Porsche. The driver of the white SUV climbed out. He was holding a machete and he raised it as he ran towards Ray.

  Ray blocked a blow from the heavy in front of him, then kicked the man in the stomach. The man saw the kick coming and twisted sideways, avoiding most of the blow, then grabbed Ray’s leg and swung him around. Ray lost his balance and fell on his back. The heavy grinned in triumph and raised his leg, preparing to stamp on Ray’s face. Ray reached up, grabbed the man’s foot and twisted it, throwing the man off balance, then Ray kicked up with his right leg, driving his foot into the man’s groin so hard that he lifted him off he ground. The man fell backwards, arms flailing.

  Ray tried to push himself up but the heavy with the machete was almost on top of him. The blade flashed down and Ray rolled to the side. The blade sparked on the pavement just inches from Ray’s shoulder. The driver raised the blade again. Ray locked eyes with him and the man grinned in triumph as he swept the machete down. This time Ray rolled the other way and again the blade struck the pavement. Ray grabbed the man’s wrist and lashed out with his foot, kicking the man’s elbow. The man yelped but didn’t let go of the weapon so Ray kicked his arm again. The man wrenched himself free from Ray’s grip and staggered back, off balance, giving Ray time to leap to his feet.

  Laura screamed again and Ray looked over at the Porsche. One of the heavies had pushed her into the back of the vehicle, the other had lifted Ollie off his feet and was swinging him inside. ‘Laura!’ Ray shouted, taking a step towards the Porsche, but he stopped as the driver swung the machete around. Ray ducked and the blade missed the top of his head by inches. Ray got in two quick punches to the man’s chest and he staggered back. Ray grabbed for the man’s wrist but he was too quick for him and he took a step back, raised the machete above his head and brought it down in a blur. Ray dived to the side, hit the road and rolled over his shoulders and came up into a fighting crouch. The driver raised the machete again and Ray launched himself at the man, two quick steps followed by a pile-driving side-kick to the man’s stomach that sent him sprawling. The machete flew from his grasp, span through the air and landed on the grass by the Range Rover. Ray looked over at the Porsche. The two heavies were in the back now with Laura and Ollie and both doors slammed shut.

  Lee climbed out of the front passenger seat of the SUV. He was grinning confidently and holding a large semi-automatic which he pointed at Ray’s chest. ‘Game, set and match,’ said Lee.

  ‘This isn’t fucking tennis,’ said Ray.

  ‘Either way, I’ve won and you’ve lost,’ said Lee.

  The driver picked himself up off the ground and grabbed Ray’s right arm. Ray ignored him and continued to stare at Lee. ‘Let them go, or I swear to God I’ll kill you with my bare hands,’ said Ray.

  ‘Good luck with that,’ said Lee, his finger tightening on the trigger. The driver of the Porsche blipped the accelerator and the engine roared.

  The heavy holding Ray’s arm gripped him tighter. Ray continued to stare at Lee but he reached over with his left hand and grabbed the heavy’s right wrist. Lee snarled and started to pull the trigger and as he did Ray yanked the heavy off balance. The heavy staggered in front of Ray and Lee’s shot hit the man in the chest. He grunted and his legs sagged. Ray threw his left arm around the man’s throat, holding him up as a shield.

  Lee cursed in Chinese and aimed his gun again but Ray kept the heavy in front of him. The driver blipped the engine again. Lee swore, then got back into the Porsche and it drove off. Ray saw Lee glaring at him and then Laura’s terrified face, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Then the car was gone, accelerating down the road towards London.

  Ray released his grip on the heavy he was holding and the man slumped to the floor. A white van slowed as it drove by, then accelerated away quickly as Ray looked over at it. Ray picked up the empty Glock and he put it back in its holster as he ran over to the SUV. He pulled open the driver’s door and cursed when he saw the key wasn’t in the ignition. That was when he heard the sound of an approaching motorcycle. He turned to see a motorcycle policeman on a powerful BMW bike.

  Ray slammed the door shut and waited for the cop to park his bike and dismount. The cop looked at the SUV, then at the Range Rover on the grass, then walked stiff-legged over to Ray. He kept his full-face helmet on but flicked up the tinted visor. ‘What’s going on here?’ asked the cop.

  Ray shrugged. ‘Road rage.’

  ‘Which one is your vehicle, Sir?’ asked the cop.

  Ray gestured at the Range Rover. The cop frowned. ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘They ran me off the road.’

  The cop went over to the heavy that Ray had knocked unconscious. The man was breathing heavily, with blood trickling from between his lips. Then he checked the heavy that Lee had shot. He knelt down, took off his right glove and felt for a pulse in the man’s throat. His frown deepened as he looked at the man’s chest injury. ‘That’s a gunshot,’ he said. He looked up at Ray. ‘You did this?’

  Ray shrugged but didn’t say anything. He looked over at the cop’s motorcycle. Then down the road.

  The cop straightened up and put his hand to his radio. Ray punched him just below the sternum and the breath exploded from the cop’s throat. He bent over, gasping. ‘Sorry, mate,’ said Ray. ‘Needs must.’ The helmet limited Ray’s options so he punched the cop in the gut again. The heavy motorcycle jacket absorbed much of the blow so he followed it up with a knee to the cop’s groin. That did the trick and the cop collapsed and curled up into a foetal ball, gasping for breath.

  Ray ran over to the motorcycle. The engine was still running. He climbed on, kicked it into gear and roared off down the road.

  CHAPTER 88

  Gabe was running down the middle of the pitch, Babacar to his right. Babacar’s limp had gone but Gabe could tell he was a fraction slower than usual. A Chelsea defender appeared in front of Gabe and he flicked the ball across to Babacar before running around the man. The defender’s shoulder caught Gabe as he went by but Gabe barely felt the blow. He called for the ball and Babacar tapped it back.

  Gabe trapped the ball and looked around. Babacar was making his run but had his back to Gabe, Moretti was being closely marked and Fernandez and Reid were still in the United half.

  The Chelsea defender he’d beaten a few seconds earlier came running up behind Gabe and Gabe sidestepped, did a full 360 and smiled to himself as the man hurtled past.

  Babacar was looking at him now and had space, though he wasn’t in a scoring position. Gabe chipped the ball across to him and ran towards the penalty box. Moretti was making a move too, bobbing left and right and forcing his defender to move with him. Then Moretti sprinted towards Babacar, shouting for the ball. The Chelsea keeper was on his line, shouting for his defence to get their act together. The crowd was roaring, sensing a shot was coming.

  Babacar sent the ball skimming across the grass to Moretti. Gabe saw an opening but held back. Moretti looked over at him, a look of confusion on his face when he realised that Gabe wasn’t making a run, then Jason Wood screamed for the ball. He was running full pelt down the middle of the pitch, unmarked. Moretti chipped the ball to Wood and Wood trapped it on the move, the crowd screaming with excitement. Wood reached the penalty box, stopped for a second, then took his shot. The keeper dived but his fingertips missed the ball by inches. The ball hit the post and bounced back towards Babacar. Babacar trapped it on his chest, dropped it and volleyed it. The keeper was on his knees but managed to get one hand to it. The ball bounced down and was kicked away by a Chelsea defender.

  Gabe’s heart pounded as he saw the ball was coming towards him. He was unmarked, everyone’s attention had been on the scramble in the penalty box. He got the ball and ran parallel to the box. Babacar was at the left of the goal, Moretti on the right, the keeper standing between them with his arms outstretched.

  Gabe stopped and put his right foot on the ball, his mind racing as he considered his options. Babacar was the best bet, the lanky Senegalese was perfectly positioned for a header. Moretti, too, had a good chance of getting a header in, though he’d also be able to get a volley past the keeper if Gabe placed the ball high and to the Italian’s left. Moretti was as good with his left foot as he was with his right and he had a knack for volleying under pressure. Wood had his arms raised over his head and was calling for the ball. Gabe moved forward a few feet, then trapped the ball with his foot again. The crowd was screaming for Gabe to pass the ball or shoot. Gabe took a deep breath, knowing that whatever he did had to look good, but at the same time there was no way he could risk a goal being scored. Not when it meant the death of his family.

  Babacar ran across the goalmouth, his arms outstretched, signalling he wanted the ball at chest height. Gabe knew what would happen if he did what Babacar wanted – the Senegalese was in position to perform one of his turning volleys, his trademark shot.

  Wood was still shouting for the ball. He was good with his head and from where he was standing he’d have a good chance of getting one in the net. On any other day Gabe would be excited at the prospect of a goal, but this wasn’t any other day.

  He ran a couple of yards and stopped again. He was just a few feet from the penalty box and the crowd was urging him on. He was going to have to do something, and soon, and he figured the best way out of his predicament would be to shoot and miss. He drew back his right foot which is when he was hit from behind in a brutal tackle that swept his legs from underneath him. He fell awkwardly, his left leg buckling under his full weight and he screamed in agony as he hit the ground. He was barely aware of the referee blowing his whistle and the crowd roaring its disappointment.

  CHAPTER 89

  It had been a few years since Ray had been on a motorbike but the BMW was easy to ride. It was responsive despite its size and after just a few seconds he realised he should have taken the cop’s helmet. His eyes were watering from the battering slipstream and he narrowed them to slits as he powered down the road.

  There was a set of lights ahead and they were red. There was a switch by Ray’s right thumb that operated the blue lights and siren and Ray flicked it. The siren started to wail and the blue light behind him began to flash. Traffic that was crossing slowed and Ray drove through the intersection, looking left and right to check that Lee’s Porsche hadn’t turned. There was no sign of it so he accelerated. There were half a dozen cars ahead of him and he overtook them, the siren still wailing, pulling over only when he saw a white van heading towards him.

  He took the bike up to sixty, crouching low over the petrol tank. A few seconds later he saw the Porsche ahead of him. The car was stuck behind a slow-moving coach. Ray switched off the siren and light and slowed the bike, hoping he hadn’t alerted them. He checked his rear-view mirrors. There were no vehicles behind him.

  CHAPTER 90

  Brian Lawrence slapped an icepack on Gabe’s left knee. ‘How’s it feel?’ the medic asked. Gabe was lying on his back, surrounded by half a dozen anxious United players. Most of the Chelsea team was huddled some distance away while the referee stood between the two groups, looking at his watch.

 

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