The Fall by Simon Clark

Author:Simon Clark [Clark, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Telos Publishing Ltd
Published: 2014-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

27

ONE

Sam Baker sat looking down at the heavy steel cuffs clamped around his wrists. They were tight, cruelly tight, and already the fifth fingers that served as his thumbs were starting to tingle. The oval scars where the thumbs had been removed soon after his birth, normally a pink colour, had turned a bloodless white.

The detective said, ‘Sergeant, we’ll take his two companions in for questioning, too. Birds of a feather and all that.’

It had to happen. Looking back, Sam saw that it had, after all, been only a matter of time.

Carswell pulled the gun.

‘Carswell, no!’ Jud shouted.

Carswell stood up, pushing the table to one side; glasses crashed to the floor, splashing beer against the policemen’s legs. ‘Lie down on the floor,’ Carswell ordered, holding the muzzle of the gun so it was pointed at the centre of the detective’s face. ‘Lie down on the floor!’

The detective shook his head. ‘No, I won’t do that, sir. Give me the gun.’

‘Lie down!’

‘No, sir.’ The detective’s voice was very low, soothing almost; he looked Carswell calmly in the eye. ‘I think it best if you give me the gun.’

‘Damn it!’

‘You know you’ll hang if you shoot a policeman. Now, give me the gun.’

Sam saw the muscle tension begin in Carswell’s shoulder. It was as if he was watching it all in extreme slow motion and extreme detail. The muscles coiled, bunched and tensed beneath the white sleeve of the suit. Carswell was squeezing the trigger.

Sam watched as the tensing muscles actually created a ripple in the fabric of the sleeve, running from shoulder to wrist to trigger finger.

The dark blue metal muzzle of the automatic shook slightly.

‘Sir, hand me the –’

Sam swung his manacled hands upward, hitting Carswell’s arm just below the elbow.

The gun jerked up at the same instant as it boomed. Sparks seemed to fill the bar; acrid smoke flooded Sam’s nostrils.

Above the detective’s head the bullet hacked a chunk of timber from the ceiling beam.

‘Bloody idiot,’ Carswell screamed. For an instant Sam thought he’d turn the gun on him; instead, Carswell tugged his shoulder. ‘Run!’

As Sam blundered through the fog of gunsmoke, he glanced back to see Carswell and Jud following.

Carswell paused again to fire the gun.

But this time he fired into the wall of the bar, adding to the confusion of the customers, who shouted as they scrambled under tables for cover, knocking over glasses and chairs.

Suddenly, Sam found himself outside. A policeman had left the patrol car and was running towards him.

Sam froze, expecting the cop to pull a gun.

But British cops are unarmed, he reminded himself. They don’t carry firearms.

Even so, the constable was drawing his truncheon.

Sam turned and ran past the side of the building into the back garden.

A family was there, the father pushing a girl on a swing that hung from a tree branch. ‘Get down on the floor!’ he yelled as Carswell came running across the grass, firing the gun in the air.

Sam heard Jud shout, ‘Carswell, throw that damn thing away. Someone’s going to get hurt!’

Carswell didn’t listen.

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