Bad Timing by Nick Oldham

Author:Nick Oldham [Oldham, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448304523
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2020-07-28T23:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

Henry had a touch of tinnitus. He’d had it years, an incessant hissing in his left ear, something he’d learned to live with and which didn’t greatly affect his actual hearing. He’d even had his ears tested and could hear just fine.

Which is why he heard one dull bang, then, a few seconds later, another.

Diane – whose hearing was still sharp and clear – looked at him.

‘Hear that?’ he said.

‘Shots being fired?’

‘Sounds like.’

‘Or someone dropping a spanner?’

‘Shit.’ Henry pointed.

The hooded man walked out through the gates and, his shoulders hunched over, he came towards the Mercedes, speeding up as he got closer. The gun was in his hand at his side. And then it was up – aimed at the two detectives.

Diane found reverse on the automatic gearbox, released the handbrake and almost stood on the accelerator as the car slewed backwards.

The gunman increased his speed.

‘We need to go faster,’ Henry said, the inflection in his voice rising as the man with the gun stopped, dropped into a firing combat stance – quickly bringing up his left hand to support the gun in his right – and began firing at the Mercedes.

Henry instinctively ducked low.

The windscreen in front of his eyes broke as the first bullet crashed through it and missed him by an inch, imbedding itself in his head rest.

Diane’s head was low between her arms as another bullet crashed through the glass.

Then another one came in.

Diane screamed.

Henry looked at her, seeing blood pouring from the side of her head where the fourth bullet creased her temple. She released the steering wheel and swooned, but kept her foot down on the pedal.

Henry grabbed the wheel.

The gunman still approached relentlessly, firing.

Henry knew the magazine could hold fifteen rounds.

But he had lost count of how many had been fired at that point – maybe six, but definitely more to come.

Henry screamed, ‘Take your foot off the gas!’

Another bullet pinged off the long bonnet of the sports car, ricocheted between him and Diane. The next hit the rear-view mirror, shattering it.

Henry’s desperate instruction got through to Diane and she pulled her foot off the accelerator. Henry dragged the gear stick out of reverse and found drive even though the car was still moving backwards.

‘Now put your foot back on!’ he shouted again.

Another two bullets.

One of which smacked into Diane’s left shoulder, obscenely jerking her back into the seat, the impact tearing into her flesh and joint and splattering hot blood over Henry.

The gunman came on relentlessly, moving in that irresistible stance, powering on, firing.

Henry shrieked, ‘Foot! Accelerator!’

Something clicked with Diane – a primal response – and, despite everything, she forced her right foot back down and the car lurched forwards with Henry gripping the wheel and aiming at the gunman who suddenly stopped, realizing what was happening: a fast, heavy, quickly accelerating sports car was bearing down on him.

Henry swerved the car directly at him, but he stood his ground with the gun up, seeming to take aim at Henry who tried to keep his body profile as low as possible.

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