Quid Pro Quo

Chapter Thirty

The humidity rose with the sun, which was soon blotted out by a billowing tide of slate-grey clouds that gathered in a great sweeping front before boiling over one another to form a thunderhead so dark as to appear deep purple.

A stiff breeze turned into a hot wind, whipping leaves and branches at their moorings. It blew dust from the exposed patches of earth that had been parched by a week of sun and mingled with the seedy heads of dandelions in a whirling spray.

When the first gentle patter of rain began to fall it was light and sporadic, as if it were the first few drops to escape confinement from the vast leaden dam that was moving ever closer in the skies over Pebble Deeping. The same skies that darkened as the minutes passed, until there was an oppressive gloaming shrouding the farm; making the old stone buildings look alive with shadow and full of malice, giving the impression that night was about to fall.

The hillside behind the village seemed to reach up out of the earth and kiss the approaching thunderhead, so low did the storm stoop. Blue-white shards of lightning flew sporadically in reply, accompanied by deep, visceral peals of thunder that reverberated around the shallow valley in which we lay.

I did not see Sharp's car arrive.

I completely missed witnessing Martha, her hands tied behind her back, being shoved from the rear passenger door; unable to prevent herself from stumbling and dashing her knees and face on the cobbled farmyard.

I was not at Ty's side as the loan shark's two minders flanked him with guns drawn and gripped in a crab-like combat stance. They carefully patted him down, removing the pistol from the holster that held it strapped tight under the left side of his rib cage.

I had been in the barn, and was just descending from the hayloft, when the scene played itself out. My eye line peeked out of the open oak doors, and I froze momentarily, trying to take it in. After several long seconds of shock, my brain defrosted and I leaped back into the interior, silently praying that no-one had seen me.

Out in the courtyard stood Sharp; dressed in an ankle-length grey trench coat which fluttered open in the gathering breeze. Martha knelt by his side, her hands bound behind her, her head bowed and the darkness of a fresh bruise high on her face.

Sharp's palm cupped the top of her head, resting on the knot of her ponytail as if she were a faithful and obedient dog that he had recently patted. His other hand gripped the shining chrome of a pistol.

Ty was held in a firm arm-lock from behind by one of Sharp's men, while the other drove punch after punch into his face and midriff, the thumps echoing across to where I cowered in the barn.

My heart pounded so loudly that I thought it was about to burst from my chest, adrenaline coursed through my system in those first moments, and my eyes darted around feverishly as my mind tried to regain some control. Slowly, I became less alarmed that my breathing would give me away and I regained a measure of composure.

Some minutes had passed and, now that the edge had been taken off the initial rush, I was left afraid, ashamed, but with a growing anger beginning to boil in my stomach.

I could make out vague words and sentences, carried to me on the wind. Sharp was repeating over and over "Where is it?" Ty was grunting as the fists crashed into him, forcibly expelling the air in his lungs. Droplets of sweat flew from the brow of the man beating Edge, mingling with the rain which had turned from a smattering to a downpour.

Ty's head remained upright, rolling faintly with the blow each time his assailant struck, his hair whipping with the force of the impact. As I watched, Sharp gave a command and the man holding Ty released him and headed for the farmhouse with his colleague. Edge sank to all fours and spat with a reddish hue into the dirt.

When the two henchmen had entered the house, Ty raised his head and fixed Sharp with a look I had seen a few times before; a burning malice that implied imminent harm. The loan shark laughed and said something that the wind snatched away from me, but his meaning was clear enough when he grasped Martha's ponytail and yanked her head upright and placed the barrel of his pistol to her temple. Ty sat back on his heels, straightened his back, clasped his hands in his lap and seemed to be taking deep breaths.

It wasn't just Edge suffering from an onset of rage. I too was struggling with a cocktail of emotions. Anger and hate boiled within me, partly directed at Sharp for coming here and threatening Martha like that, partly directed at myself for skulking in the barn when I could have been out there helping, if only my limbs weren't frozen with fear.

Don't be an idiot, I thought. What could I realistically do? Charge out there and give Sharp a good telling off?

No, my mind raced, I needed to call the police. I patted my pockets and swore under my breath, my phone was in the farmhouse kitchen. It might as well have been embedded a foot up a tiger's arse for all the use it could do me.

In fact, if it were somehow concealed within the lower digestive tract of a man-eater, I suspected that I would have had more chance of retrieving it unharmed than from its current location.

I reassessed my situation. There was only one way out of the barn and that was the large double doors that led out into the farmyard where my friend and the woman I loved kneeled at gunpoint.