CHAPTER THIRTEEN
For nine years, Drew had imagined what he would say if Daniel somehow came back.
None of the versions included his brother holding a gun to Sam's head.
"Drop it, little brother."
Daniel's voice was older than the one Drew remembered. Rougher. Less amused by the world.
Drew kept his pistol raised.
"Let him go."
"When you drop it."
"You first."
"Still stubborn."
"Still alive, apparently."
Daniel flinched.
Small. Almost nothing.
Drew saw it anyway.
On the gantry, Michael Quinn raised one hand.
"Nobody shoots anybody. We have enough dead men in this room already."
Leah stared at him.
"You don't get to make jokes about dead men."
Michael looked at his daughter.
Whatever he had expected from this reunion, it had not been that sentence.
"Leah--"
"Don't."
The word cut across the hangar.
Ben Harker remained crouched beside the engine block, pale from blood loss but holding Leah's spare pistol with both hands.
Gareth Pike sat against a tyre, one hand clamped over the dressing at his stomach.
Owen had his weapon aimed at the gantry.
Sam stood very still beneath Daniel's gun.
And Drew could hear his own heartbeat.
"Daniel," he said.
His brother looked at him.
Same eyes.
That was the worst part.
Older face. Scar through the eyebrow. Grey beginning at the temples.
Same eyes.
"Let Sam go."
Daniel lowered the pistol.
Sam stepped away immediately and turned.
"You absolute bastard."
Daniel nodded. "Fair."
Sam punched him in the mouth.
The sound cracked across the hangar.
Owen barked a laugh before remembering everyone was armed.
Daniel staggered, wiped blood from his lip and looked at Sam.
"Point taken."
Drew did not lower his gun.
"Why the performance?"
"Because if I'd walked out saying hello, you would have shot Michael."
"I still might."
Leah said, "Queue starts behind me."
Michael came down the metal stairs slowly.
The men on the gantry kept their weapons lowered.
Drew watched them.
"Hale's people?"
"Mine," Michael said.
Leah looked sharply at him.
"You have a private tactical team now?"
"I have men who prefer being paid to stay alive."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the answer you're getting while we're standing in Hale's distribution hub."
Ben gave a weak laugh.
"Still does that."
Leah looked at him. "You knew?"
"I knew Michael was alive. I didn't know Daniel was."
Drew turned toward Ben.
"How many people knew my brother wasn't dead?"
"Very few."
"Number."
"Four."
"Names."
"Michael. Me. Gareth. Hale."
The room changed.
Drew looked at Gareth.
Gareth's face was already destroyed by shame.
"You knew."
"Not at first."
"How long?"
"Six months after the lock-up."
Drew crossed the space between them.
Gareth did not move.
Drew hit him.
Gareth fell sideways with a grunt, one arm folding over his wound.
Amy's voice lived in Drew's head from the farmhouse.
My dad isn't evil.
It was the only thing that stopped the second punch.
"Six months," Drew said. "You watched me bury him."
Gareth spat blood onto the concrete.
"I watched you bury a body Venn told us was Daniel. I didn't know until Michael contacted me later."
"And then?"
"Then Daniel told me if I said anything, Hale would kill you too."
Drew looked at his brother.
"You told him that?"
Daniel nodded.
"Yes."
"You don't get to decide whether I get to know you're alive."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Every day."
The answer was too quiet.
Drew hated it more than an excuse.
Leah moved toward Michael.
"My turn."
Her father looked at her.
"I was coming for you."
"Sixteen years late."
"Leah--"
"Mum died believing you were dead."
Michael's face changed.
That landed.
Leah did not let him recover.
"She blamed herself because you left angry that morning. She spent ten years thinking your last conversation was a fight about a leaking roof. You knew she was alive. You knew I was alive."
"If I contacted either of you, Hale would have found me."
"So you let us bury you."
"I let you live."
"Don't dress it up as a gift."
Drew watched Michael take that without defence.
For the first time, he understood where Leah had learned the habit of not looking away.
Michael glanced toward Gareth.
"We don't have time for this here."
"Make time," Leah said.
A sound came from outside.
Three short bursts of automatic gunfire.
Michael's head snapped toward the hangar doors.
One of his men touched an earpiece.
"Contact west side. Two vehicles."
Another burst.
A man on the gantry dropped.
This time the blood was real.
Michael shouted, "Down!"
Rounds tore through the upper windows.
Glass fell like ice.
Drew dragged Gareth behind the nearest car. Leah pulled Ben down beside him.
Owen fired toward the broken windows.
"Thought these were your men!"
"Those aren't," Michael shouted.
The lights died.
Emergency strips glowed red along the floor.
Drew heard engines outside and the heavy crunch of a vehicle hitting the main door.
Daniel slid beside him.
For a second they were shoulder to shoulder exactly as they had been in a dozen stupid fights before Daniel died.
Drew looked at him.
Daniel looked back.
"Later," Daniel said.
"You owe me nine years of later."
"Then survive five minutes."
The west service door blew inward under impact.
Men in black entered through smoke.
No police markings.
No shouted warnings.
Hale had stopped pretending.
Michael's people returned fire from the gantry.
Ben crawled toward the office corridor.
"There's another exit."
Gareth coughed. "Runway door."
"Covered," Daniel said. "They'll expect it."
Drew looked at the line of vehicles inside the hangar.
One was a battered airport fire truck with cracked paint and a rusted grille.
"Does that run?"
Gareth actually smiled through the pain.
"Probably badly."
"Good enough."
Leah heard him.
"No."
"You have a better idea?"
"Several. None involve driving through a wall."
"Then they're too slow."
Michael tossed Drew a key ring.
"Blue tag."
Drew caught it.
Leah stared at her father.
"You're encouraging him?"
"I met him thirty seconds ago. It seems easier."
Drew almost liked the man.
Almost.
They piled into the truck while bullets struck metal around them.
Sam hauled Gareth into the rear cab. Ben followed. Owen climbed onto the step with one arm nearly useless. Daniel took the passenger side.
Leah grabbed Drew's jacket before he reached the driver's door.
"If you kill me before I get to shout at my father properly, I'll be furious."
Drew looked at her.
"That sounded almost affectionate."
"Drive."
Michael and two of his men climbed into the rear compartment.
The engine coughed twice, then roared awake.
Drew put it in gear.
The east wall was corrugated steel over a frame.
Leah closed her eyes.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
The truck hit the wall.
Steel folded.
Daylight exploded through dust.
They burst onto the old runway as gunfire followed them out.
Drew kept his foot down.
In the mirror, the hangar shrank behind them.
One black vehicle followed.
Then another.
Daniel looked over his shoulder.
"Hale will close the roads."
Drew gripped the wheel.
"Where do we go?"
Michael answered from the back.
"Somewhere he thinks is already dead."
Leah turned.
"That phrase is becoming a family problem."
Michael did not smile.
"Your grandfather's house."
Gareth made a sound from the rear seat.
Not pain.
Recognition.
Drew saw it in the mirror.
"What?"
Gareth looked at Michael.
"Mick used that place."
Michael nodded.
"I know."
Daniel looked out at the runway.
"That's where the ledger started."