Clive frowned. “We don’t have a choice. Let’s go.” From the motorway the place had looked like a mess, so he hoped it was just as disorganised close up. “We’ll find somewhere to hide with the bikes. If they…” he glanced at his wife. “We’ll be in a better position to defend ourselves if we need to. We can take them by surprise.”
He looked around, making sure for the last time that there wasn’t a better hiding place. There wasn’t. There was a steel barrier running along the shoulder on each side. One person might have been able to hide behind it, but four of them and four bikes? He wasn’t going to take that risk.
They raced down the slip road and followed it round to the left. The scrapyard was three hundred yards ahead of them. Clive’s stomach was in knots as he realised he’d sent them all into a natural valley. With any luck, anyone driving past wouldn’t see them, but if someone happened to be looking in their direction…
They squealed to a halt outside the junkyard and Clive was delighted to see something he hadn’t noticed from the motorway. The place had an old garage attached. “We can hide in here. Bring your bikes.”
They all dismounted and Annie hurried over to the roller door at the front.
“Wait,” he hissed. “Stop. There could be someone inside.”
She darted back to them. “It’s locked anyway. Wouldn’t move.”
“Okay,” he whispered. “Just be careful.”
“Who’s going to be hanging around an old garage? It looks deserted.”
“Let’s confirm that, shall we? I’ll go look for a back door.” He paused. The roar of the engine was close now—he prayed they’d just carry on up the motorway. “Let’s all go.”
He crept around the corner and walked along the narrow passageway between the garage and the scrapyard fence. His bike wheel clicked every time it completed a full rotation and he made a mental note to check it. He glanced behind him, expecting to see the others close by. They were all lingering back near the road.
“Come on,” he hissed. If that car got off the motorway at the same exit they’d used, they’d definitely be seen. Thankfully they began to move without him having to tell them again.
Clive looked around as he went. The place was a mess. Good, he thought. Makes it more likely that no-one has been here for a very long time.
He smiled when they got around the back. There was another advantage to rundown old places. The door was old and weak. Certainly nowhere near as secure as one might have expected a working garage to be. He frowned as he took in the brackets on either side. They looked like a recent addition.
The growl of the engine drew him back to the present. He looked at the others. They were watching him impatiently. He sighed and turned back to the door.
He felt uneasy. Maybe it was the exhaustion and the bunged up heady feeling that he always got when he was coming down with a cold. He made a mental note to get some paracetamol when they found a pharmacy.
He grabbed the door handle and jiggled it, lightly at first with the intention of applying more and more pressure until it gave. He didn’t need to. Instead of meeting resistance, the handle turned easily.
His sense of alarm grew. He stood back and drew his weapon, nodding to the others that they should be careful.
He pushed the door open and stood back, half expecting someone to rush out at them. No-one did.
He stepped inside, moving swiftly into the vast space and becoming more and more confused. He turned to the others and nodded. It was clear. So why did he feel so on edge? His instincts weren’t usually wrong. Now his heart was pounding and he felt even more lightheaded.
But there was no-one here.
Perhaps it was the fact that he could still hear that engine, louder than ever. Surely it should have passed their exit by now?
He noticed the look on Olivia’s face. “What is it, darling?”
The others looked uneasy too. They hadn’t taken their packs off and they clung to their bikes like they were security blankets.
“I don’t know, Clive. It smells awfully like petrol in here.”
He took a step towards her, hand out in an attempt to calm her. He couldn’t smell a thing, but he’d been bunged up all morning. He hadn’t even been able to smell the cheese earlier, and the others had said it stunk to high heaven. “I’m sure it’s just the fact that it’s a garage. They’ll have been—”
“I smell it too,” Annie said warily. “My nose is blocked but I still get it. We should—”
Clive took a step towards the door, about to suggest they discuss it outside. After all, garages weren’t in the habit of refuelling client cars, and no-one could have driven in or out for at least four days.
He didn’t get as far as the door. It banged closed and there was a weird scraping sound.
He hurried to it and tried the handle. It moved, but there was something stopping it from opening outwards. The brackets, he realised with a start. “Who’s there? What’s going on? I’m a police officer!”
He stopped. Maybe that wasn’t something he should mention. He turned to the others and his stomach lurched as he saw the fear and surprise etched all over their faces. He turned and rammed his shoulder against the door again and again. But it wouldn’t budge.
Then there was a strange whooshing sound, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.
Someone screamed. But he didn’t turn around. He knew that sound. And the new smell that filled the room was one that even the harshest cold couldn’t block out.
Fire.
32. Si
Si was dripping sweat by now. She’d released the ropes and the bar had slammed down into the brackets on either side of the door, just like she’d practised. Everything had gone perfectly, but that didn’t stop her worrying. She could still hear the second car.
Damn it. Why didn’t I think of this?
She scrambled back and peered in the window. It was already filling with smoke even though it had only been a few seconds.
She froze. They weren’t the people who took Max.
She faltered for a second. Stop it. There’s no time. This is just the rest of their crew.
“Where’s Max? Where the hell is he?”
“Who the hell is Max?”
Si blinked. It was a woman. A younger woman.
Stop thinking! There’s no time! If the others get here before I’ve gone…
“Bullshit. You came and you took him.”
She watched as the flames rose around the edges of the big space. One of the men stumbled back to the roller door and tried to pull it up, before being turned back by the flames.
“There’s no point. I’ve disabled it. Tell me where Max is.”
“We don’t know anyone called Max,” the older man said, turning around.
Si’s eyes widened when she saw the gun in his hand.
They widened even more when it finally dawned on her that they had bicycles. Bicycles.
Oh no.
She didn’t know much about the men who took Max, but they weren’t the cycling types—she was sure of that.
“You don’t know Max?” she said frantically. “What are you doing here?”
“Open the fucking door!” one of the men screamed. “Now!”
Si knew now she’d made a huge mistake and it might be too late to fix it. She turned and leapt off the roof, landing hard. She didn’t care.
She turned and stumbled to the door and pulled hard on the bar she’d used to block it.
“No!” she cried. “Come on.”
Why hadn’t she set something up to put out the fire? She hadn’t even considered the possibility that a bunch of random people could walk in. What were the odds?