Steven fought to make more space for himself to work in but the effort of moving sacks in such a confined space was bringing him dangerously close to complete exhaustion. He managed to give himself the thickness of one more sack by gripping the sack below his belly and rolling round on to his back so that he took the place of the sack. He then forced the sack — now on top of him — back into the space he had just crawled along. After all, he would not be going back that way.
After taking a few moments to recover he brought up his knees in an agonising contortion and managed to get the soles of his feet against the suspect roof panel. He pushed with all his might and it split away from its fixing nails to move upwards but only for about half a metre before it stopped.
Steven rested for a moment, taking pleasure in the fact that light was coming in and he could breathe in the outside air, although it was a long way from being fresh as the whole world, as far as he could see, was covered in thick smoke. He could now see that the roof panel had jammed because of a rusty metal fixing plate that was still holding fast despite its condition. There was no time for subtle strategy. The sound of one more explosion in the Blackbridge air was hardly going to matter any more. He pulled out his gun from the holster and fired twice at the plate. It flew off and the roof panel was now free to rise.
Steven replaced the gun in its holster and pulled himself up through the gap and out on to the roof of the barn where he paused to look around him although he realised that there couldn’t be much time left before Childs and Leadbetter set fire to the barn. He could see that several fires had broken out on Crawhill, all looking as if they had been the result of fire spreading from Peat Ridge.
He kept himself pressed flat against the roof as he tried to see where Childs and Leadbetter might be and finally caught sight of one of them — he couldn’t tell which one — about a hundred metres away and very near to the road between Peat Ridge and Crawhill.
He kept himself on the other side of the barn roof as he made his way up to the front of the building and looked down over the edge at the bulldozer, parked hard up against the front doors. For him this was now an advantage. The drop to earth would be daunting but a drop down on to the roof of the ‘dozer’s cab presented no real problem at all, providing that he wasn’t being lined up in a gun sight as he contemplated it.
Steven could see no sign of the opposition watching the barn and committed himself to rolling off the roof to hang by his fingers for a moment before dropping down on to the roof of the cab. It was then a simple enough manoeuvre to swing his body down into the cab to begin figuring out how to start up the vehicle. The dangling ignition key was a welcome sight. He turned it to the right and hit the green button with the flat of his hand. The engine roared into life and Steven looked skywards briefly in a gesture of thanks. He knew that he might only have seconds to do what he had to do. He crunched the gear stick into reverse and almost went through the cab’s screen as the vehicle lurched backwards.
There was no time to warn Eve and Trish what he planned. He was relying on them realising what the sound of the engine must mean. He pushed the stick forward into first and rammed the blade of the vehicle into the barn doors, splintering them like matches. He killed the engine and jumped down to yell to Eve and Trish that it was now safe to come out. They appeared at the door and Steven herded them quickly away from the barn in a crouching run, fearing some kind of incendiary explosion at any moment. The explosion didn’t come but the sound of nearby gunfire did and a bullet whined off an empty oil drum off to their left.
It was clear to Steven that Childs and Leadbetter had decided against a quick detonation of the barn in favour of at least one of them coming back to hunt them down. Eve and Trish had found a small hillock to crouch behind. Steven signalled to Eve that he was going to move off to the right in an attempt to come up on the flank of the opposition. Eve nodded that she understood and Steven rolled off to his right then sprinted into the cover of a pile of wooden crates. He glanced back and saw that Eve was trying to attract his attention. She was pointing at something.
Steven deduced that she must have caught a glimpse of someone coming towards them but out of his line of vision. He looked in the direction she was indicating and then saw that she was holding up the flat of her hand as if telling him to hold his horses. He remained crouching low, gun at the ready but conscious of the fact that he had already used up two shots. His eyes were fixed on Eve who still had the palm of her hand held up. Suddenly she dropped it and made a rapid pointing gesture.
Steven sprang to his feet, holding the gun in front of him in both hands, knees slightly bent. He saw Childs standing about twenty metres from him, preparing to fire at where the women were hiding. Childs managed to get one shot off before Steven fired at him, three times in quick succession. He did it coldly and without rancour but at the same time fully aware that he was settling a personal score. Jenny would never need to know what had happened here but what was more important, she would never have to see Childs’ face again, whether in a court of law or just by chance. All three bullets found their mark and Childs was dead before he even knew that Steven was anywhere near.
Steven remained on the alert, dropping again to one knee, bringing his weapon round in an arc, all the while trying to see where Leadbetter might be. There was no sign of him and no gunfire being directed at him. He concluded that Childs had come back on his own to deal with the three of them. Leadbetter must still be out on the farm somewhere.
Steven ran quickly over to where Childs was lying and prised his gun from his fingers before running back to join the women. He froze in his tracks when he saw that Eve was cradling Trish in her arms and sobbing quietly. ‘The bastard hit her,’ she said. ‘She’s dead.’
Steven could see that Trish Rafferty was indeed dead. ‘God, I’m so sorry,’ he said.
Trish looked up. ‘Who’s that coming?’ she asked. Steven spun round and dropped to one knee, levelling the gun at two figures who were running towards them through the smoke. He relaxed as he recognised the gangling figure of Jamie Brown.
‘Bloody hell! This place looks like Viet Nam!’ gasped Brown as he and the young, scared-looking photographer with him crouched down beside them. ‘Is the stuff still in the barn?’ asked Brown.
‘Yes, but you can’t risk going in there,’ insisted Steven. ‘It’s going to go up at any moment.
‘Just a couple of shots and a handful for the analyst,’ said Brown getting to his feet and urging the cameraman — who wasn’t so sure — to follow him.
‘Don’t do it!’ yelled Steven.
‘After the bollocking I got from the editor this morning, there’s no way I’m going back empty handed,’ Brown yelled back. The two of them disappeared from view and Steven looked anxiously after them. ‘Come on!.. Come on!’ he urged as the seconds ticked by.
The barn suddenly erupted in a sheet of yellow flame over a hundred feet high. A deafening roar filled their ears and a wall of heat hit Steven and Eve as they were blown off their feet. Steven cried out in anguish as he realised that there was no way that Jamie Brown or his companion could have survived the holocaust. He crawled away from the fire and the sickening smell of burning meat.
When they were far enough away Eve and Steven turned to look back at the inferno. It didn’t seem right to Steven to be crouching down at that particular moment, knowing that he was witnessing the cremation of Jamie Brown and his colleague. He stood up and gazed at the flames with a lump in his throat, ignoring Eve’s tugging at his leg.