The Evil And The Pure (60 page)

The realis
ation hit him suddenly, awfully. The consequences would be dire, he was signing his own death warrant, betraying all he believed in. But a few things in life were more important than duty. Killing Gawl McCaskey had taken priority over his allegiance to Dave. Saving Tulip Tyne now seemed just as essential. He could no more stand back and let her be killed than he could have stood by quietly and let Gawl McCaskey walk away from the London Eye.

The moment called for immediate action. Without dwelling on the
madness of his choice, Big Sandy drew his gun, took aim at Eyes Burton and fired twice into his chest. As Eyes went down in a silent, puzzled heap, Big Sandy drew a bead on Fast Eddie. But Fast Eddie had reacted to the first shot and darted towards the Hays Galleria, head down, running at top speed. Big Sandy fired a couple of shots after him but both flew wide. He could probably have taken his time and fixed firmly on Fast Eddie but he chose not to. Fast Eddie was a friend and Big Sandy didn’t really want to kill him.

He turned on
Jimmy B, gawping at him, still holding the hound’s reins, too astonished to defend himself. Big Sandy put a bullet through the man’s forehead before he wised up and Jimmy B went down hard, letting go of the reins as he fell. Big Sandy prepared to shoot the hound too, but it was past him before he could take aim, launching itself at the corpse of Kevin Tyne, knocking Tulip out of the way – she’d stopped praying and was staring at Big Sandy, bewildered – then trying to gnaw at Kevin’s head. It couldn’t, because of its muzzle, so it settled for gulping his blood.

“No!” Tulip shrieked, trying to pull the
hound away. Big Sandy didn’t waste time arguing with her. He transferred the bag to his right hand, wrapped his huge left arm around her waist, picked her up and backed off, eyes on the Galleria, ready to drop the bag and start firing if Fast Eddie poked his head out. “Kevin!” Tulip wailed. “Don’t let that beast –”

“Quiet,
” Big Sandy snapped. “If we act quickly we might get out alive. Otherwise we’re both dead.”

Tulip stopped struggling, paused to analyse what was happening,
realised what Big Sandy had done and gazed at him, awestruck. “
Why?
” she whispered. He didn’t answer, there was no time. Thoughts churning as he backed away from the carnage. They could make for Borough High Street and hail a cab. But Fast Eddie had called in support, the men were almost here, they might be coming from that direction, Fast Eddie would be on the phone to them now, telling them of Big Sandy’s betrayal. Alternatives? London Bridge station directly behind them. Dash in, grab a Tube or train, try to stay ahead of the Bush’s men.

Backing into the station, grasping Tulip, the money and
his gun. Train or Tube? He opted for the former, space to run if Fast Eddie caught up with them — didn’t want to get trapped underground. “Can you walk?” he asked Tulip, angling for the entrance to the platforms.

“I can
maybe hobble.”

“Let’s try. We’ll attract less attention that way.” Lowering her, he let her lean on him for support. Tulip tested her ankle, smiled bravely at
him and the pair scurried up the escalator and down the corridor to the rail platforms as fast as they could, Big Sandy glancing over his shoulder with every few steps, holding the gun close by his side so as not to alarm others in the station.

Lots of platforms and trains. The numbers meant nothing to Big Sandy. He passed two platform
entrances before stopping and squinting at an electronic departures board. Checked the time and next available train. There was one due to depart from platform five in two minutes, lots of stops. They could ride it for as long as they wished, get off anywhere, connect with another train or grab a cab.

T
hey lurched for platform five, Big Sandy holding Tulip up and giving her a big swing forward to quicken their pace.

The train was pulling into the platform when they arrived and for the first time since he was a child Big Sandy offered up a silent prayer of thanks to God, even though he didn’t truly believe
that God had intervened to help them. Tulip sensed the prayer or saw it in his eyes and smiled knowingly but held her tongue. They stumbled along the platform to the rearmost carriage, where Big Sandy bundled Tulip aboard then climbed in after her, slamming the door shut, sliding the window down, standing guard, ready to fire if they were followed.

Tulip relaxed against the opposite door, taking the weight off her injured ankle,
studying Big Sandy in wonder and grateful amazement. She started to ask why he was doing this, then stopped. It was a question she didn’t need to voice. He was doing it because he cared, because he was human, because he’d been touched by God, even if he’d never admit it. “Where are we going?” she asked instead.

“
I don’t know,” Big Sandy said, not looking around. “We’ll jump off after a few stops, get out of London, hide.”

“And then?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“
My passport’s in the bag with Kevin’s. If we need to get out of the country I could use mine, you could alter his and use that.”

“Maybe.” Not concerned about such details. Wary of thinking too far ahead when their present crisis was far from
behind them. If this train got moving and they weren’t seen and they got out of London …
then
he’d start considering the long-term difficulties.

The tannoy crackled into life and the voice of a bored driver came over it. “Ah, sorry about this short de
lay, ladies and gentlemen. We have some signal problems on the track ahead. Nothing serious, we expect to be moving again within three or four minutes. Thank you for your patience and once again, sorry about the delay and any inconvenience it might cause.”

Big Sandy drew back from the window and lo
oked at Tulip. She saw defeat in his eyes and an unvoiced sneer,
So much for God.

“It’s only a short delay,”
Tulip said nervously. “We might still make it. Or should we grab another train?”

Big Sandy thought about that
and shook his head. “We’re safer here. They won’t know which platform we’ve come to, maybe not even that we came up here instead of down to the Tube. We’d be vulnerable outside. Better to…”

Stopped by f
amiliar howling on the platform — the hound. Big Sandy lurched to the window and peered out. Fast Eddie at the platform entrance, three more of the Bush’s men behind him, the hound just ahead, snout red with blood. Fast Eddie must have thought fast, dragged the hound off Kevin once the backup had arrived, gave it Tulip’s scent, followed her here. He wouldn’t have been able to if Big Sandy had shot the hound. Letting the creature live — dumb move, not like him.

Big Sandy leant out the window and fired, but he was too far away to make the shots count. Fast Eddie and the others ducked back. The other people on the platform dove for cover. Big Sandy glanced at Tulip, who stared at him resolutely, unafraid. “They’ve found us?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“If the train starts now…”

“It won’t. Even if it does, they know where it’s going. They’ll have men waiting for us at the next stop. They’ll get on and hunt us down.”

“You could give me back to them. They might forgive you.”

He smothered a disrespectful snort. “No.”

“Then it’s over,” she said, resigned. “Will we surrend
er or make them fight?”

“Which would you rather?”

Tulip hesitated then made up her mind. “Surrender. You might kill one of them in a fight and I don’t want that. There’s no need for it now.”

Big Sandy nodded. “They might still torture you. If you want, I could…” He left it hanging.

Tulip smiled sadly but firmly. “Life’s too sacred to discard cheaply. I’ll take my chances. God will look after me.”

“Like
he’s looked after you so far?” Big Sandy grunted. He glanced out the window again. One of the men with Fast Eddie was creeping forward. Big Sandy fired and the man scrambled back into cover. “Lousy trains,” he muttered. “To get this far and be undone by –”

Stopped by another announcement, this time coming from the
station speakers. “The next train on platform six is an express train. The train on platform six will not be stopping in this station. Please stand back from the edge. Thank you.”

Big Sandy paused.
Platforms five and six were joined. Crazy thoughts of jumping aboard the oncoming train with Tulip, but express trains screamed through at top speed. He reached for the handle of the door, preparing himself to go and surrender…

…
then stopped as another thought hit. This one crazy in its own way too, but sobering at the same time. There
was
a way out of this. Maybe God
was
looking down and offering Big Sandy a bittersweet choice, testing his resolve, maybe even offering him the chance of…

Big Sandy thought quick
ly. Both damned if he did nothing, him definitely damned if he went with his plan, Tulip probably damned — but only
probably
. She might get away.

He decided. Opened the bag, yanked out several
rolls of notes and thrust them at Tulip. “Stick those inside your jumper.”

“What are you –” she began to ask.

“Do it,” he barked, pulling out more rolls, forcing them on her. Tulip stared at Big Sandy, confused, but did as ordered, stuffing the money down the neck of her jumper, hundreds of thousands in total, maybe half a million, he couldn’t be sure. She looked like the Michelin Man by the time he was finished. He almost laughed. Her passport was in the bag. He tossed it to her. He also emptied his wallet of cash, so she’d have some smaller bills.

“Where’s the notebook?” Big Sandy grunted. Tulip handed it to him. “Do you have a pen?” She shook her head. Big Sandy cursed then
stomped down the carriage. Three people, cringing in their seats, staring at Big Sandy as if he was the devil. “I need a pen,” Big Sandy shouted, flashing his gun. Hands were thrust into pockets and pens appeared like magic. Big Sandy grabbed one, returned, checked the action on the platform to make sure no one was sneaking up on them, then tore a page out of the notebook and scribbled a hasty message.
All that you’ve earned for me over the years is Amelie’s now. Give it to her when she’s old enough, help her make the most of it. This girl needs your help too. Invest the money that she gives you. Keep it safe for her. Let her draw from it whenever she asks. Do this for me and we’ll be even forever, all debts paid. Sandy.
On the back of the note he wrote Julius Scott’s name, address and phone number.

“If they don’t come after you,
get off somewhere random and find a hotel,” he told Tulip, handing her the note, then riffling through the rolls of cash left in the bag, thumbing the elastic bands off them, leaving the bag half-open. “Once you’ve checked in, stay in your room for a few days, don’t go out, treat yourself to room service. Then call Julius. Arrange a meeting, take the money to him, show him the note, discuss your future with him. He’ll invest the money safely and make sums available to you whenever you ask. You can trust him.”

“What’s happening?” Tulip
asked, more scared now than she had been when her situation seemed utterly hopeless.

“
Ask Julius to help you get out of the country,” Big Sandy continued. “He can set you up somewhere, arrange for regular payments to be sent to you, plenty for you and the kid to live on. You’ll be safer abroad, but don’t spend too much, you won’t want to draw attention to yourself. If the payments ever stop, forget about the money and find another way to pay the bills. Never come back looking for it.”

“Sandy, what –”

Big Sandy leant forward and kissed her chastely. “Will you pray for me?” he asked as he pulled away. Tulip nodded. She’d started to cry again. “Good girl,” Big Sandy smiled, opened the door before she could say anything and jumped out. He fired his final couple of shots at Fast Eddie and his cohorts – they’d been creeping forward cautiously – then moved away from the train, across to where platform five became platform six. He kept to the edge of the platform and ran, willing the express train to be on time, challenging God to prove himself as interventionist and benevolent as Tulip believed he was.

Fast Eddie leapt to his feet an
d shouted at the men behind him. “He’s making a break for it. He has the bag. Stop him!” They needed no further encouragement. Racing ahead of Fast Eddie, they opened fire, ignoring the screams of the people on the platform, focused on the giant further ahead, each of them keen to be the one to claim such a valuable scalp.

Big Sandy heard the retorts of the guns and the zings as the bullets struck the floor and
platform pillars. He willed the bullets wide of their mark. If they killed him, they’d be able to check the bag and his plan would be ruined. Where was that fucking train! He was getting near to the end of the platform. If it didn’t arrive soon…

And here at last, as if
sent by God, it came. An express train thundering towards platform six like a steel angel on wheels. Big Sandy sighed with relief when he saw it coming, began to slow, then remembered this had to look genuine. Picking up speed again, he raced for the end of the platform, confident that the train would get there before him
.