'Run, love, run!' Cooksley shouted as soon as the door was open. 'Grab the kids and run!'
'Shut up!' shouted Sallum. 'You'll only make it worse for yourself.' He grabbed Cooksley's hair, yanking his head back hard. He forced the pistol into his throat, pushing him down the hallway. He could see the woman and the two children in the kitchen staring at him, their mouths open. Tears were starting to stream down the cheeks of the smaller of the two boys. 'Do exactly what I tell you, and you won't get hurt,' he shouted towards her.
'Don't do it, love!' Cooksley shouted. 'He's a lying bastard.'
Sallum pushed the man hard against the wall, which shook with the force of his weight, and a piece of ornamental china crashed from the shelf on to the floor. Sallum could hear the woman screaming. Cooksley lunged towards him, his fist raised and his muscles clenched, ready to smash into his face. Sallum swivelled and ducked, his movements elegant and delicate. Cooksley swung up at him with a boot aimed at the waist. Sallum turned again — like a ballerina, he could swivel perfectly on the balls of his feet. He caught the back of Cooksley's right wrist, slamming it against the wall. He pushed the P7 into the soft flesh of the palm, firing. The bullet hammered right through the hand, cracking open the bones and lodging into the wall behind. Cooksley doubled forward in pain, clutching his hand, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood.
A man with a fresh wound through his right hand is effectively disabled.
Sallum moved in closer to Cooksley, slamming his knee up into his jaw. Cooksley's head spun backwards and he lashed out, a line of blood from his hand streaking across Sallum's face. Sallum clenched his left hand into a ball and slammed the fist into the back of Cooksley's neck. The blow sent him crashing to the ground. Sallum delivered two swift kicks to the side of his head, leaving him limp and unconscious on the floor.
Sallum spun around, levelling the pistol directly at the woman's forehead. 'I'm a reasonable man,' he said. 'Stop screaming, do exactly what I say, and you won't get hurt.' With his left hand he threw a pair of plasticuffs down on the floor. The woman looked at her husband lying slumped next to them. Tears were streaming down her face. From the kitchen, the sound of the children's screams could be heard. 'Bind him,' barked Sallum. 'And shut those kids up.'
She shook her head.
Sallum kept the gun trained on her, moving backwards. He took the elder boy by the hand and led the child towards the front room. The toddler looked nervously at his mother, then down at his father, and wet himself. He stopped crying, biting his lip.
Sallum could feel the boy's hand shaking. He levelled the pistol with the top of the boy's skull, its muzzle resting in his black hair. He looked coldly towards the woman. 'Do exactly what I say,' he repeated. 'Tie him.'
The woman picked the plasti-cuffs from the ground. She fastened them around Cooksley's hands. She wiped away the sweat from his forehead, then leant forward to kiss him just between the eyes.
'Just bind him!' Sallum barked.
She snapped the cuffs into place. Callum ran towards his mother and threw himself into her side, gripping on to her legs. Danny ran out from the kitchen, looked edgily at Sallum, then hung on to his brother's legs, sucking furiously on his dummy.
'What do you want from us?' she said, her voice gradually regaining its strength.
'Be still,' answered Sallum. 'Don't say anything. Just watch.'
He shook the rucksack from his back, letting it land on the floor. From the bag he took out a Sony camcorder and a collapsible tripod. He walked towards the front of the room, glancing briefly out to the street, then put up the tripod. He placed the camcorder on top of the tripod, then pulled a black woollen mask over his face, with holes for the eyes, nose and mouth. He pulled on a pair of black surgical gloves, making sure not a trace of skin was visible, then switched on the camcorder. He could feel the eyes of the boys following him as he walked back towards their father, measuring each step across the floor, listening to each creak of the floorboard. As he worked, the woman remained completely still, her muscles frozen.
A religious man should never make a mother watch her children die.
Sallum knelt down before Cooksley, uncorked a small jar of smelling salts, and waved it under his nose. With his thumb, he pulled up his right eyelid. 'I want you to watch,' he said.
Cooksley's eyes were bloodshot, his expression drained. Sallum could see the pupils moving cautiously from right to left, but he could tell nothing of what the man was thinking. He stood up, walking towards the centre of the room, making sure he was in direct view of the camcorder.
'Come here,' he snapped at the woman.
She looked at Cooksley, then back towards Sallum, shaking her head.
In her eyes, Sallum could detect a mood of defiance. 'Now!' he shouted.
She started to walk nervously the three yards across the floor. He levelled the P7 with her head, squeezing the trigger once. The bullet struck her in the windpipe, blowing a hole through her neck. Blood started to spit from her mouth, her knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor. Sallum walked one pace forwards, pushed the pistol down, firing another bullet. This time it struck her just above the eyes, crashing through her skull. Her body jerked once, then went still.
'It was quick, at least,' said Sallum, looking towards Cooksley.
The two boys were cowering beside the fireplace, clinging on to each other. Both of them fell silent. Sallum took two paces forwards, grabbed Danny by the hair and yanked him into the air. His mouth fell open into a scream. Sallum jabbed the gun into his open jaw and fired. The bullet went straight through his head, sending blood and skin against the wall behind him. The body wriggled, then died. Sallum released his grip on the hair, letting the body drop on the floor.
Sallum looked towards Cooksley. 'I'll let the other boy live if you'll do something for me.' He reached back inside his bag, pulling out a single piece of white card. Stepping back towards Cooksley, he knelt down in front of him. He could smell the sweat and blood on Cooksley's skin. 'Read this out for the camera,' he said.
'Fuck off!' Cooksley spat. 'You'll kill me anyway.'
Sallum nodded. 'Yes, but I don't have to kill the boy,' he said. 'I am a just man. So just read it.'
'Who are you?' said Cooksley, his voice dry and hoarse.
'I am your executioner,' said Sallum. 'You should know better than to steal, and you should certainly have known what the punishment would be. Now read.'
Cooksley glanced down at the piece of card resting on his lap. His lips were shaking as his eyes struggled to focus on the words written out in neat block capitals. 'Look up at the camera when you speak,' said Sallum.
Cooksley began to read. 'We shouldn't have stolen from al-Qaeda, boys,' he said, his tone dull and lifeless. 'I'm getting what I deserve, and you're about to get what you deserve. If you give back the money and turn yourself in, they'll just kill you and leave your families alone. Do it, boys, it's not worth it. You've seen what happened to me.'
Count to five. Let the man understand what has happened to his family before he dies. One, two, three, four, five.
Sallum lined up the barrel of the P7 with Cooksley's head. One bullet struck on the side of his chin, the second just below the ear. Cooksley's head slumped forwards, his leg twitched, and trails of blood started to seep from his wounds. Within seconds, the last breath had emptied itself from his lungs, and his body had fallen completely still.
Sallum stood back, taking a moment to compose himself. There were three bodies on the floor, and the blood and fresh wounds were starting to fill the room with the fresh aroma of a butcher's shop. He tucked the gun back into his pocket and walked back to the video camera, turning the off switch.