The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

Miller held the cordon up, allowing her and Hayes under without bending too much. Charlotte kept her eyes open for approaching cars, of which there were none. “Let’s get this done as quick as we can. It gives me the creeps being here.”

Miller stood to the side, allowing Hayes access to the thick wooden door. Charlotte glanced from left to right several times in the time it took the detective to open the door. “Good work,” she said in genuine amazement. “I’ll have to get me one of those.”

Inside, she waited for the detectives to join her before she closed the door behind them. Miller brought out a pen flashlight, which lit up parts of the large workshop at a time. Charlotte was surprised to find the floor space empty. “I see they’ve taken everything, even the Fiesta.”

Hayes took charge, using her own flashlight to find the drain in the centre of the floor. “Your brother must’ve put it in there. It’s the only drain I can see.”

Crouching, Charlotte opened the small drain cover with a bit of bother. She lifted the cover and took the torch from Hayes. “There it is!” A white envelope.

Handing the flashlight back, she tore open the envelope. “What’s the second key for?” She held it up to the torchlight. “Ford. It’s the key to the Fiesta. I wonder why he stuffed this in here too?” She held the locker key.

“Right, let’s get out of here before someone sees the lights in the window.” Miller turned hers off, headed for the door, with Charlotte following.

“Go now, go,” Hayes ordered, as she followed them out onto the courtyard.

Charlotte walked fast, her shorter legs struggling to keep up with the Amazonian Miller. With an eye on the entrance to the courtyard, she saw the coast was clear and made a move towards her car.

The road was bathed in white light, as headlights lit them up.

Charlotte froze, deer-like, in the lights. “Oh shit!”

“Run to your car, Charlotte, we’ve got your back,” Hayes ordered.

When Hayes and Miller ran, Charlotte shot into hers, fumbled with her keys, and turned on the engine. Up the road, the headlights kept her well lit.

Looking through her rear windscreen, she saw Hayes making gestures with her hand to go.

Charlotte put her foot down, hearing the tyres screeching, and shot off along the road, Hayes and Miller’s car directly behind.

With adrenaline kicking in, she drove as fast as she could without crashing, until she was on Ampere Way, and then the A23, Purley Road. Then she opened up the throttle, watching the Peugeot behind swerve, blocking the van from overtaking.

53

“What’re you waiting for, man? You’re in this, too.” Vodicka punched one of the brothers on his chin, snapping his head to the left sharply. She stood up straight, stared into him. “Well?”

With Sarge’s eyes on him, Walker stepped up to the other brother – he didn’t want to know which one – brought his fist back and punched his cheek, the flesh breaking, claret pouring down his face. He forgot he was wearing a ring. He gasped when he saw the welt he’d created. “Oh man! I’m so sorry!”

Sarge, Vodicka and the farmer laughed, hard. Mainly at him apologising, but also partly at Yasin Inan’s bloody face, his expression solemn. “Good job. Couldn’t have done it better myself. But I think now’s the time to start proceedings.”

Vodicka’s phone rang. Walker listened, knowing the new information wasn’t good. How could it be? Zuccari was on his way here with the rest of the unit. “And?”

“Five minutes, and your darling cousin’s going to be joining you,” she said to the gagged prisoners, who’d both received quite a beating already. “And we’ve got a surprise for you two. You’re going to love it.” If her mask were off, they would have seen her grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s time.” Sarge took a knife out of his pocket, walked behind the Inans in turn and cut the cable ties. “You boys want out of here, you’ve got to come through us.”

Walker saw the fear in their eyes; they weren’t getting up.

“But here’s the rub, if we catch you, we’re going to hurt you, do you hear me? And it won’t be a subtle beating. No, it won’t be as soft as that. So, who’s going to get up first? Huh?” Sarge kicked the brother on the left. “No? What, you’re not a tough guy now?” He kicked the other one. “I heard you’re big tough guys like me, but clearly you’re not.”

They sobbed at the thought of being beaten up. One screamed into his gag.

Stepping up to the one on the left, Sarge picked him up, withdrew his fist and punched the Turk so hard, he sent him flying over a bench, onto the hay-strewn floor. “Where do you think you’re going?” He found the prisoner and kicked him in the face. “That felt good. You should give this a go, Luke. It’s cathartic. Should’ve done it a long time ago.”

“Come on, man, he’s had enough, look at him.” Walker just wanted out of this nightmare. He wasn’t some vigilante wannabe cop. He joined the police to help people, not beat the crap out of them.

“I say when they’ve had enough, not you.” Sarge stepped up to the second brother, still sat on a rickety wooden chair, and punched his cheek. “Come on, don’t just stand there looking pretty. Kick him in the head or something.”

Walker stared down at the semi-conscious Turk. “I’m sorry!” He swung his boot forward and cracked the guy’s face. “There, happy? It’s done. Let’s put them back in the van and dump them somewhere, yeah? No harm done.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Help me put them back in their chairs for their cousin’s arrival.” Sarge stooped over, grabbed the thug, and put him in the chair with little effort.

The farmer opened the wooden door, bathing the barn in white light.

“See that, you piece of crap? Your cousin’s here. Now we can