CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Drew stood at the edge of the Humber with no plan beyond making Terry Pike stop moving.
Owen killed the dirt bike behind him.
"Now what?"
"Good question."
"You don't know?"
"Not even slightly."
"Excellent."
The pilot boat idled thirty metres offshore, blocked ahead by Sam's fishing boat and too close to the mud edge to turn quickly without grounding.
Terry stood at the stern.
One remaining man beside him held Mick's ledger inside a waterproof bag.
The pilot boat driver shouted something.
Terry ignored him.
He looked at Drew.
"Richard would be furious."
Drew raised the pistol.
"He's unavailable for comment."
"You think this is victory?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
"You not leaving."
Terry smiled.
He raised his pistol.
Drew saw the movement and dropped behind a concrete marker as the shot cracked over the water.
Owen fired back.
Terry's man ducked.
The pilot boat engine surged.
Sam moved his fishing boat closer.
The two vessels nearly touched.
Pete shouted from the bow.
"I've had this boat longer than you've had that face! I'll fucking ram you!"
Terry looked toward him.
"Pete Lawson. Still alive?"
Pete shouted, "Out of spite!"
The pilot driver tried reverse.
Mud boiled behind the stern.
The boat moved half a length.
Then stopped.
Grounded.
Owen laughed.
"Idiot came too shallow."
Drew stood.
Terry's expression had changed.
For the first time all night, he looked old.
Not weak.
Just mortal.
Sirens remained distant.
Calder had kept the approach dark.
Good.
Terry pointed the pistol toward Sam's boat.
"Move."
Sam leaned from the wheelhouse.
"Can't hear you! Engine's shit!"
Pete laughed so hard he had to hold the rail.
Then Terry shot him.
The bullet hit Pete high in the upper arm and spun him onto the deck.
Sam shouted.
Owen fired twice.
Drew fired once.
Terry's remaining man dropped behind the cabin.
The waterproof bag with Mick's ledger slid across the stern.
Terry grabbed it.
The pilot boat driver jumped over the opposite side into waist-deep water and started wading for shore.
Smartest man present.
Terry looked toward Drew.
Then did something Drew did not expect.
He climbed over the rail.
Onto the mud.
Water came to his knees.
He started toward the spit carrying the ledger.
Owen raised his gun.
Drew pushed it down.
"No."
"He's getting away."
"He's sixty-eight in knee-deep Humber mud."
"Good point."
Terry struggled toward firmer ground.
Drew walked down the slope to meet him.
Owen followed.
"Stay back," Drew said.
"Absolutely not."
"Owen."
"You made yourself acting president. Enjoy the feedback."
Drew almost smiled.
Terry reached the mud edge and climbed onto shingle.
His coat was soaked to the waist.
The founder ring still shone on his hand.
He held the pistol low.
Drew stopped ten feet away.
"Drop it."
Terry laughed softly.
"You sound like police."
"Been a confusing week."
"Do you know what happens if you arrest me?"
"I don't arrest people."
"Precisely."
Terry looked toward the darkness behind Drew.
"You hand me to Calder. I give her enough information to bargain. I spend five years in a comfortable prison, perhaps less. Men with titles protect themselves. Half the names in Mick's ledger will deny me. The other half will pay lawyers."
Drew said nothing.
"Or you shoot me."
Owen shifted beside him.
Terry saw it.
"Then North End proves exactly what everyone says it is. A violent little club defending a drug route."
Drew lowered his weapon slightly.
Terry smiled.
"There. Richard's boy. Thinking."
"Don't call me that."
"Why? He died for you."
Drew's finger tightened on the grip.
Terry continued.
"Daniel had already gone. Your father knew it. He couldn't save both sons, so he chose the younger one."
Drew stared.
"You don't know anything about him."
"I know what he offered me."
"And you killed him anyway."
"Hale killed him."
"You keep saying that like it matters."
Terry's eyes cooled.
"It matters to the law."
A voice came from behind Drew.
"Not as much as you think."
Leah.
She walked down the service road with Calder twenty feet behind and two NCA officers further back.
No sirens.
No lights.
Terry looked at her.
"Persistent."
"Occupational problem."
Calder raised her weapon.
"Terry Pike. Drop the gun."
Terry looked at Drew.
"There it is. Your choice. Club or police."
Drew looked at Leah.
She did not tell him what to do.
That mattered.
He looked back at Terry.
"Wrong choice."
"Is it?"
"I'm choosing not to become you."
Drew lowered his pistol.
Terry's expression changed.
Tiny.
Disappointment.
Then he raised his gun toward Drew.
Leah shouted.
Calder fired.
So did someone else.
Terry jerked.
The pistol flew from his hand.
He dropped to one knee.
Drew turned.
Daniel stood thirty feet behind Calder.
Hospital dressing visible beneath his coat.
Gun in hand.
Of course.
Drew closed his eyes.
"How did you get here?"
Daniel looked at him.
"Walked."
"From the workshop?"
"Mostly."
"You've been shot."
"Aware."
Calder shouted, "Drop the weapon!"
Daniel looked at her.
Then at Terry.
Terry was still alive.
Calder's round had hit his shoulder.
Daniel's had hit lower, tearing through his side.
Terry laughed through the pain.
"Daniel. Always easier."
Daniel's face became empty.
He raised the gun again.
Drew stepped in front of him.
"No."
Daniel stared.
"Move."
"No."
"He killed Dad."
"I know."
"He had Hale shoot me."
"I know."
"He'll bargain."
"Probably."
Daniel's eyes filled with nine years of things Drew had never been allowed to see.
"Move."
Drew did not.
"You spent nine years deciding what I could survive. Don't make this another one."
Daniel's hand trembled once.
Terry watched them from the ground.
Smiling.
Even wounded, he was enjoying it.
Drew saw that too.
"He wants you to do it."
Daniel's expression hardened.
"I want to do it."
"Different problem."
"Drew."
"Drop the gun."
For a long second Drew genuinely did not know what his brother would choose.
Then Daniel looked past him.
At Terry.
And lowered the weapon.
Calder moved immediately.
One officer took Daniel's gun.
Another approached Terry.
Terry's smile disappeared.
Drew breathed out.
Then Terry reached inside his coat.
Leah saw it first.
"Gun!"
It was not a gun.
A small black trigger.
Remote.
Ben had said the maintenance boat was rigged.
Terry pressed it.
The explosion behind them lit the Humber white.
The maintenance vessel beside the workshop erupted into fire.
Heat rolled across the water.
Everyone turned by instinct.
Everyone except Terry.
He lunged for the waterproof ledger bag and ran toward the water.
Wounded or not, fear improved him.
Drew chased.
Terry reached the mud edge.
Leah was behind Drew.
"Stop!"
Terry looked back.
Then threw the ledger.
Not toward the water.
Toward the burning maintenance boat.
Drew watched twenty-seven years of evidence arc through the night.
Leah ran past him.
She jumped from the shingle onto Sam's fishing boat as it drifted closer, used the rail for balance and launched herself toward the floating bag.
For one impossible second she was horizontal above black water.
Then she hit the Humber.
Drew's heart stopped.
"Leah!"
She surfaced immediately, swearing.
One hand caught the bag before current pulled it beneath the fishing boat.
Pete leaned over the rail with one working arm.
"Got you!"
He grabbed the back of her coat.
Sam helped drag her aboard.
Leah lay on the deck soaking wet, still holding Mick Pike's ledger above her head.
"Evidence," she gasped.
Pete looked at her.
"Fucking police."
Drew almost laughed from shock.
Then a shot cracked behind him.
He turned.
Terry had recovered his dropped pistol.
Not from his coat.
The one Calder thought she had kicked away lay closer than expected.
He aimed at Leah on the boat.
Drew moved.
Daniel moved faster.
He hit Terry from the side.
The gun fired into the mud.
Both men went down.
Terry struck Daniel's wounded shoulder.
Daniel shouted.
Drew reached them.
Terry rolled on top and pressed the pistol beneath Daniel's jaw.
Drew raised his weapon.
Too close.
Terry looked at him.
"There."
Blood covered his teeth.
"Choose."
Daniel's eyes met Drew's.
For nine years Daniel had chosen for him.
For two days everyone had threatened one brother to control the other.
Drew lowered his gun.
Terry smiled.
Wrongly.
Drew stepped forward and kicked him in the face.
Terry fell sideways.
Daniel grabbed the pistol wrist.
Drew grabbed the other arm.
Together they forced Terry face-down into wet shingle.
Calder reached them with cuffs.
"Move."
Drew moved.
Daniel did not.
His hand stayed around Terry's wrist.
Terry whispered something.
Daniel leaned closer.
"What?"
Terry smiled into the stones.
"Richard chose him."
Daniel froze.
Drew saw it.
The oldest wound.
Not the bullet.
The brother left behind.
The father who had tried to save only one because one was already lost.
Drew crouched beside Daniel.
"He chose both of us."
Daniel did not look at him.
"You heard him."
"I heard Terry. Not Dad."
Daniel's hand loosened.
Drew put one hand on the back of his brother's neck.
"We're done letting dead men explain the living."
Daniel closed his eyes.
Then released Terry.
Calder cuffed the old man.
Terry Pike finally stopped moving.
Behind them, the maintenance boat burned.
Leah sat on Sam's deck wrapped in a filthy blanket with Mick Pike's ledger held against her chest.
Pete's arm bled through an improvised bandage.
Owen stood over the pilot boat driver with a pistol and a look suggesting North End had developed its own border force.
Denny Cross limped from the workshop holding his shoulder.
Michael and Ben followed.
All alive.
Drew looked at the Humber.
At the fire.
At Terry in cuffs.
At Daniel beside him.
For the first time since the week began, nobody was missing.
That felt suspicious.