Lifting the Lid(84)

Trevor opened one eye and then the other as Patterson finished speaking, and he felt a tidal wave of relief flood through his body.

‘Far enough,’ said Sandra and released her grip on Trevor’s fleece long enough to point at the wall that was furthest from the entrance. ‘Over there. Shift it.’

There was a moment’s pause, but then Patterson moved slowly in the direction she’d indicated. His companion followed, and all the while both men kept Sandra unblinkingly in their sight. Once they had reached the wall, she told them to turn and face it and place their palms against it as far up as they could reach.

‘Now spread ‘em,’ she said.

‘What?’ said Patterson, turning his head slightly away from the wall.

‘Come on, guys,’ said Sandra. ‘I’m sure you know the drill.’

Patterson muttered something that Trevor couldn’t quite catch, but both men took a step back and positioned their feet about a yard apart.

‘You see? That wasn’t so difficult, was it? And I’m sure I don’t have to emphasise the fact that I’ll have no hesitation in blowing this bloke’s brains out if I even think you’re coming after me.’

She winked at Trevor and released the pressure of the gun against the side of his head as they made their way to the exit. He opened the glass door, and they looked up and down the street for any sign of Patterson’s other pals. There was no-one in evidence, so they quickly crossed the road to Sandra’s Peugeot with frequent backward glances towards the flats.

By the time they got to it, Milly was already performing her acrobatic routine and barking wildly. They made their way round to the far side of the car, and Trevor climbed in behind the steering wheel whilst having to use considerable force to push Milly over onto the passenger seat. Sandra ducked down as she made out the shapes of four men through the glass entrance to the apartment block.

‘Now what?’ said Trevor when she had clambered into the back of the car and handed him the keys.

‘First of all, just get us out of here.’

He started the engine, and the Peugeot lurched forward as the clutch reacted very differently from the one in his van. But by the time they reached the end of the street and he randomly decided to turn left, he’d pretty much got the hang of it.

‘We could do with somewhere we can lay low for a while,’ said Sandra, looking through the back window of the car to make sure they weren’t being followed. ‘Somewhere we won’t be disturbed while we make one or two phone calls.’

Trevor glimpsed the back of her head in the rear-view mirror and then her face as she turned towards him.

‘Where exactly does your sister live?’ she said.



* * *



As soon as Trevor and Sandra had left the building, Patterson had radioed Jarvis and Coleman and told them to leave their posts at the fire escape and the emergency exit at the back and get their arses round to the entrance hall. They had arrived within seconds, and the four men watched as the white Peugeot lurched off up the road. All of them had their guns drawn, but Patterson had given the order that no-one should fire unless he told them to. In the end, though, he’d decided it was just too risky. He still had no idea who this Trevor Hawkins was, and maybe he was totally innocent. If so, he certainly didn’t want to be held responsible for the guy having his head blown off. Besides, the tracking device on the car meant they could keep tabs on them and do the necessary when the conditions were more favourable.

‘Let’s just hope the bloody tracker’s working,’ he said when they stepped through the door and saw the car turn left at the top of the street.

‘No reason why it shouldn’t,’ said Statham. ‘Those things are usually pretty reliable.’

Patterson turned to him with a world weary expression and a tone of voice to match. ‘That’s what they said about the Titanic.’

‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘instead of standing around gassing, I suggest we get on and put your optimism to the test.’

He was about to tell Jarvis and Coleman to stay where they were and keep an eye out for anyone who looked even vaguely suspicious when a silver-coloured taxi pulled up on the opposite side of the street. All four watched in silence as the driver got out and opened the rear door that was nearest to them and then went to the back of the car and lifted the boot. The passenger emerged, wearing dark glasses and carrying a long white stick, and felt his way along the side of the taxi while the cabbie took a small brown suitcase from the boot and slammed the lid shut.

Taking him by the arm, the cabbie guided him onto the pavement and set the suitcase down next to him. The blind man pulled a wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed the driver a couple of banknotes. After a brief exchange of words, the cabbie got back into the car and drove off.