‘You think we should call George back? Might be worth sticking our head round the door now,’ Keane said but the apprehension in his voice gave him away.
The both of them were torn. The wait was agonising and they were itching to get involved, but they had no idea how many men were in there and seeing Drennan and Tyler go bursting in had done nothing for their confidence. If those two had their own agenda now there was no telling how they would react to seeing Slater and Keane follow them in.
‘He’ll ring back,’ Slater replied flatly. He was struggling with his emotions now and knew that he shared Keane’s reluctance to get involved and the probable risks they would be facing. Drennan looked like he was armed when he had burst in through the door and he had dealt with Walker’s boys enough times to know that they were dangerous even when they weren’t carrying.
Even so, it was Angie stuck in there in the middle of it. All of them had an affection for her. More than once Slater had felt a big-brotherly compulsion to sort out some disrespectful young lad only to find that Angie had dealt with him more than capably. Slater also had a burning desire to get his hands on Campbell again, to hit him and hit him until he’d handed over the stick and then begged and then cried and then bled.
Slater felt though, through the fury, a strange feeling toward Campbell developing. A certain grudging respect. Slater had dealt with plenty of people far harder than the young man, far tougher and more ruthless individuals, but none, he thought, so resilient, so resourceful, so pig-headedly determined as he was. He just didn’t know when he was beaten. As much as he wanted to knock him about, he couldn’t ignore that in Campbell. If Keane or Cooper had shown some of his nous they’d never be in this shit in the first place.
‘Get a bit closer,’ Slater said.
Keane slipped the car into gear and rolled quietly away from the kerb and along the road. Back in the shadows where they had been hiding their view was poor. Slater didn’t much want to go in there but he they needed to get a better view, and besides, they couldn’t sit around waiting for too much longer.
Pulling level with the front of the house Keane slowed to a crawl to get a good look. The front door was open but only a crack, seemingly having swung closed behind Drennan and Tyler on their dramatic entry. Light shone from the hallway beyond but he could see no shadows giving signs of movement.
He turned his head quickly to check the road was still clear in front of him and when he turned back he thought he spotted something in the light of the doorway, some shift of shadows to betray activity inside. He grabbed Keane’s arm and the other man tapped the brakes and the car stopped.
In a blaze of light the door crashed open and three running figures filled the frame. Slater stared in astonishment as they came racing down the path and as they dashed into the road he realised that he recognised Angie; tired and gaunt looking but Angie nonetheless. He saw that she had spotted his car and was shepherding the other two toward it. He noticed then that all three had their hands tied.
The rear door popped open as Angie span round to reach the handle with her hands and then all three were falling into the seat, shifting and bumping awkwardly across the leather. Angie was last in.
‘Go!’ she shrieked. ‘Fucking go!’
But Keane didn’t need to be told twice and already he was waking up the neighbours with the engine growling noisily and the tyres squealing away down the road.
57
Tuesday. 2.30am.
There was menace in the room from every corner and Sarah’s eyes were wide and darting.
Slater in the corner, all forearms and fury, looked ready to spring across the carpet and start pounding him to the floor as if giving him the slip outside in Liverpool Street all those days ago was still as fresh in his mind as the wound on his temple.
The other two were somehow less frightening. The coloured man, Campbell noted, was a laid back character and seemed delighted at the look on Gresham’s face when they had brought his daughter back to him. The other man, the driver, seemed more concerned with Slater than with him and had barely spoken a word to anybody since they’d poured themselves chaotically into the back of the car. This did little to reassure him.
Gresham for his part had not let Angie go since he had engulfed her in a bear hug ten minutes previously and he did not look as if he would let her go ever again. He did though, and all too soon.
Campbell and Sarah were sat on two straight-backed chairs in the corner where Keane and Slater had parked them minutes before. As yet Slater had held back from laying into him though he had not exactly been gentle manhandling Campbell from the car to the house. He seemed to be waiting for a cue from his boss.
Gresham walked slowly toward Campbell, eyeing him and Sarah both with exaggerated interest as if to highlight their compromised position. He looked from Campbell to Slater’s head and back again and raised his eyebrows. He had been waiting for this moment, Campbell knew, and he was milking it.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’ said Gresham with a wolfish grin.
Campbell’s cheeks flushed at the implied threat.
Gresham stared down at Sarah and Campbell stared up at him in turn as he did so.
‘Is that the best you can do?’
Gresham looked more surprised than Campbell to hear Sarah speak, and more so at the defiant, almost mocking tone of her voice.
‘You what?’ Gresham said.
‘You heard her George you fucking bully.’ Campbell couldn’t stop the words before he’d said them.
In a flash, Gresham had him pinned by to the wall, his sweater bunched on his chest in two huge fists.
‘You, my son, have got a big mouth and a small brain.’ Gresham was right in his face, lips curled in a snarl, eyes narrowed.
‘Stop it.’
Campbell saw his eyes flicker before he realised that it wasn’t Sarah’s voice.
‘Stop it Dad,’ Angie repeated.
‘You can leave now love,’ Gresham said without taking his eyes off Campbell.
‘Listen to your daughter George,’ Campbell said, returning the steady gaze. He had seen and heard the gratitude from Angie as she had spoken to them and to the other men in the car now she had spoken up for him against her father.
Gresham’s face was burning deep red now and sweat was beading on his brow. He gripped Campbell’s sweater tighter in his hands pulled him away from the wall and then slammed him back against it.
‘You fucking owe me one George,’ Campbell shouted, even as the wind was knocked out of him. Gresham paused and his grip eased just a tiny amount. He bent close to Campbell’s ear as he bowed his head and tried to get his breath.
‘What?’ he hissed.
Coughing, Campbell said, ‘You owe me. You owe me for her.’
Gresham said nothing for a second and Campbell, suddenly enraged, reached up and tore Gresham’s hands away from him, shoved the bigger man back from him violently.
‘Come on George. You were fucked! You had no idea where she was or how to get her back,’ Campbell shouted. ‘Those two were sat outside doing nothing. I got her out of that house George. Ask her what happened. Go on. I went back in there and got her out with me.’
Gresham stayed silent, part of him amazed at the younger man’s behaviour, part of him thinking reluctantly that perhaps he had a point. He turned and looked at Angie who stayed silent but whose eyes gave Gresham the answer that Campbell wanted.
‘You guys have no clue what this is about. Nothing. You know why you stole that data? Who it was for?’ Campbell looked around the room. He saw hard angry eyes looking back at him but no answers. He shook his head. ‘Not a clue.’
‘Who gives a shit?’ Gresham said suddenly. ‘Who the fuck are you anyway? Who cares why and who for? They’re paying me sunshine. Paying cash which I happen to need.’