38

At this range, it was going to be difficult to take them down. I closed in. I could now see the second loadie. His muzzle flashes bounced around in the darkness. He was firing into the other two down on the tarmac.

Dex lay very still in a pool of his blood. His face was in lumps.

The other two were covered with blood. It looked like Spag had tried to make a run for it. He was lying a short distance from Red Ken.

Tattoo must have detected movement.

He dropped to his knee in Dex’s blood and his head swivelled like a reptile’s. His eyes homed in on me. As he pushed the mag-release catch with his thumb, his left hand went behind him. The mag fell onto what was left of Dex’s head. Tattoo’s left hand returned, clutching a new mag.

I didn’t have time to go stable to take my shot. But even ten metres was too far for a revolver on the move. He didn’t flinch as I fired. The top slide was back on his weapon, ready to receive the new mag. He was calm and controlled.

I made more ground, weapon up.

I fired the Taurus twice more. Tattoo had a whole magazine – twelve, thirteen, maybe twenty rounds if it had an extension. I had just three left, and then the speed loader. I hoped he might turn away or fumble the mag change to give me time for a decent close-range shot, but this boy was too good. In almost the same movement he pushed in the fresh mag and released the top slide with his thumb. It flew forward and picked up a round as he brought it up.

The guy behind him went down on his knee and reloaded.

Tattoo had both eyes open as I ran into his sight picture.

I jinked left.

He fired.

I jinked again, and this time I turned. I ran hard, focused on the Yukon, blanking out the gunshots behind me. No evasive action, none of that shit now. I just kept going. The three of them were dead. There was nothing I could do for them.

The firing behind me was more distant. Only a lucky shot would take me down. All he could do was pump out the rounds and hope.

Just metres to the car.

The tiniest movement of the barrel translates into an enormous diversion of the round.

Head down, almost at the door.

No shouts behind me, no confusion, just more shots.

I grabbed the door handle, jumped into the seat and saw both of them running forward, dumping magazines and throwing in new ones.

I took a breath to slow everything down.

Key in, ignition on.

The windscreen took a round top right. It crazed like a spider’s web but the toughened glass held. I pushed my foot to the floor and the auto-transmission did its stuff. I steered for the gate on full beam, hit the main road and swung the vehicle left.

There was no follow-up in the rear-view – at least, none using headlights.

Why would they bother? They’d got everything they wanted, apart from one crate.

I fought to contain the emotion that boiled inside me. Anger wasn’t going to help get me out of here. First I had to pick up my passport and then get out of Dubai – maybe head east for Oman a couple of hours’ north. Once I was safe, I’d call Julian. He’d get me out of the shit.

I was back on the coast road. The city soon glowed on the horizon. A few K more and, as I passed the rest area where we’d loaded the Suburban, I could see the warning lights blink on top of the skyscrapers.

Six K later I was pulling into wasteland just inside the city limits. I jumped out, looking for something hard to do some damage. ‘Sherry, it’s OK – get up.’

The ground was littered with piles of broken-up concrete blocks and reinforcement rods from the construction sites all around us. A lump of concrete would work for me.

By the time I got back to the wagon she was sitting up with the blanket still over her head. ‘You don’t need that any more.’ I opened the rear door. One look at what I had in my hand confirmed her worst fears. ‘God, please, no!’

I headed for the windscreen. ‘Shut up and get out!’

I started by giving the bullet hole a couple of hits to disguise it. Sherry stood there, the blanket still in her hand. ‘You’re safe, Sherry. It’s all over. I’m fucking off now and so should you. If you want to see your husband, don’t say a word to anyone. If you do, you’re in the shit with the UAE.’

I didn’t give her time to answer. She just needed gripping. ‘Go get the windscreen replaced.’ I gave her half the money I had on me. She took the cash and didn’t say a word or even draw breath before jumping into the driver’s seat and hitting the gas. Fair one.

I watched her rear lights melt into the mass of streetlights and neon before I started walking in the same direction.