followed.
Banksy dropped the Uzi and slumped onto his belly.
"Oh, man." Ray raised his hands. "His head's … God." He looked around him, then back at Pearce. "Don't let them shoot me too."
"If I let you live, you'll come after me."
"It's cool, man. I wouldn't. Me and Banksy, we weren't all that close." He was shaking. "Didn't like each other all that much, honest."
"He's your brother."
"Mate, I wouldn't lie to you. Truth is, I always thought he was a wanker."
Pearce took a deep breath. "Give me your hand."
"You what?"
"I'll leave you a couple of fingers. Even let you choose which ones."
"No, you can't—" Ray stuck his hands behind his back. "I need them."
"Fair enough." Pearce shot Ray in the foot. Then he shot him in the other foot. Then he shot him between the eyes.
Ray collapsed onto his brother. One dead wanker on top of another.
12:20 am
Pearce looked towards the abandoned warehouse, waiting to see who the shooter was, the one who'd taken out Banksy. He had a good idea who it might be.
But nothing moved. At least, not that he could see.
Maybe the shooter had already gone. Left Pearce to clean up.
Before he did that, he had to check on the kids.
12:21 am
When Pearce opened the back door of the car, Hilda jumped up at him and licked his hand. Pearce tickled him under the chin. "Everyone OK?"
Kirk put his hand up.
"What is it, son?"
"I peed." He put his hand down.
"OK. Well, we all pee. Don't worry about it."
"I saw the ghost. It made me pssssh . Hilda saw it too. He barked a bit. Like this." He made a yelping sound.
"Like this!" Devon yelped too.
Kirk burst into tears.
Shit. "Hey, no need to be scared. Sounds like it was just a small ghost. A baby ghost. Hilda's scared it off. And I'm here now."
Kirk pointed at Devon and shouted. "She didn't see it. She was sleeping."
"You want to calm down, Kirk?"
"No!"
"Fine. Carry on shouting, then. Maybe I should join in. Bet I could make more noise than you. Want to try?"
He shook his head. Wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "No."
"OK."
Ray had pinned up a black bin-liner between the front and back seats, which meant that the kids couldn't see out. They wouldn't have seen any of the shootings. Wouldn't have seen their mother killed. That was something, at least. Maybe Ray hadn't been such a wanker after all. Or maybe he'd done it 'cos he couldn't stand the sight of them. Nobody would never know now.
"Can I see the fireworks?" Devon yawned.
"What fireworks?"
"I heard them."
"Ah. They're all done."
"I dreamed about my mummy."
"I don't … what did she say?"
"She loves me and Kirk and Daddy and Granny. And you! And Hilda! And she wants her shoe."
12:25 am
The jumper snagged on Jack's chin. Pearce pulled on the neck to widen it and tried again. Gave it a good yank to get it moving, and peeled it off the dead man.
Jack sagged forward, his head lolling sideways.
Pearce ignored the figure running towards him. He had to hurry. He took his own sweater off and put Jack's on. Smelled a bit musty. Nice fit, tho. Both of them were built on the hefty side. Only thing left was to get his own sweater on Jack.
"What are you doing, Pearce?" That Aberdonian accent.
He looked up. She was just a few feet away, chest heaving as she caught her breath. "You should get out of here, Ailsa."
"I will. Just thought you might need a hand."
"Haven't you done enough for one night?" He realised he sounded angry. Actually, he was angry. She'd taken a massive risk. But he was also grateful. "I'm sorry. I should say thanks."
"It's OK." She moved closer. "Least we could do."
"Why?" He pulled his sweater down over Jack's head.
"I owed you."
"Ailsa," he said. "What happened before, that was years ago. Anyway, what I did back then … I did it because I wanted to." He forced Jack's left arm through the hole in the sleeve.
"Because I couldn't do it myself."
She'd tried, though. Bought herself a gun, just couldn't get hold of any ammo for it.
Banksy dropped the Uzi and slumped onto his belly.
"Oh, man." Ray raised his hands. "His head's … God." He looked around him, then back at Pearce. "Don't let them shoot me too."
"If I let you live, you'll come after me."
"It's cool, man. I wouldn't. Me and Banksy, we weren't all that close." He was shaking. "Didn't like each other all that much, honest."
"He's your brother."
"Mate, I wouldn't lie to you. Truth is, I always thought he was a wanker."
Pearce took a deep breath. "Give me your hand."
"You what?"
"I'll leave you a couple of fingers. Even let you choose which ones."
"No, you can't—" Ray stuck his hands behind his back. "I need them."
"Fair enough." Pearce shot Ray in the foot. Then he shot him in the other foot. Then he shot him between the eyes.
Ray collapsed onto his brother. One dead wanker on top of another.
12:20 am
Pearce looked towards the abandoned warehouse, waiting to see who the shooter was, the one who'd taken out Banksy. He had a good idea who it might be.
But nothing moved. At least, not that he could see.
Maybe the shooter had already gone. Left Pearce to clean up.
Before he did that, he had to check on the kids.
12:21 am
When Pearce opened the back door of the car, Hilda jumped up at him and licked his hand. Pearce tickled him under the chin. "Everyone OK?"
Kirk put his hand up.
"What is it, son?"
"I peed." He put his hand down.
"OK. Well, we all pee. Don't worry about it."
"I saw the ghost. It made me pssssh . Hilda saw it too. He barked a bit. Like this." He made a yelping sound.
"Like this!" Devon yelped too.
Kirk burst into tears.
Shit. "Hey, no need to be scared. Sounds like it was just a small ghost. A baby ghost. Hilda's scared it off. And I'm here now."
Kirk pointed at Devon and shouted. "She didn't see it. She was sleeping."
"You want to calm down, Kirk?"
"No!"
"Fine. Carry on shouting, then. Maybe I should join in. Bet I could make more noise than you. Want to try?"
He shook his head. Wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "No."
"OK."
Ray had pinned up a black bin-liner between the front and back seats, which meant that the kids couldn't see out. They wouldn't have seen any of the shootings. Wouldn't have seen their mother killed. That was something, at least. Maybe Ray hadn't been such a wanker after all. Or maybe he'd done it 'cos he couldn't stand the sight of them. Nobody would never know now.
"Can I see the fireworks?" Devon yawned.
"What fireworks?"
"I heard them."
"Ah. They're all done."
"I dreamed about my mummy."
"I don't … what did she say?"
"She loves me and Kirk and Daddy and Granny. And you! And Hilda! And she wants her shoe."
12:25 am
The jumper snagged on Jack's chin. Pearce pulled on the neck to widen it and tried again. Gave it a good yank to get it moving, and peeled it off the dead man.
Jack sagged forward, his head lolling sideways.
Pearce ignored the figure running towards him. He had to hurry. He took his own sweater off and put Jack's on. Smelled a bit musty. Nice fit, tho. Both of them were built on the hefty side. Only thing left was to get his own sweater on Jack.
"What are you doing, Pearce?" That Aberdonian accent.
He looked up. She was just a few feet away, chest heaving as she caught her breath. "You should get out of here, Ailsa."
"I will. Just thought you might need a hand."
"Haven't you done enough for one night?" He realised he sounded angry. Actually, he was angry. She'd taken a massive risk. But he was also grateful. "I'm sorry. I should say thanks."
"It's OK." She moved closer. "Least we could do."
"Why?" He pulled his sweater down over Jack's head.
"I owed you."
"Ailsa," he said. "What happened before, that was years ago. Anyway, what I did back then … I did it because I wanted to." He forced Jack's left arm through the hole in the sleeve.
"Because I couldn't do it myself."
She'd tried, though. Bought herself a gun, just couldn't get hold of any ammo for it.
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