when the dude stood up, but the skateboarder had felt it pressing into his thigh while he was pounding James. He ripped it from James’ waistband as he stood up, then aimed the gun down at him before savagely kicking him in the balls.
The five skateboarders laughed as James doubled over in pain and spat out a mouthful of blood.
The youngest kid there looked about twelve and he’d picked up the mobile phone. ‘Let’s call the cops,’ he grinned. ‘How much is twenty-five thousand split five ways?’
‘Maths not your strong point?’ an older skateboarder giggled.
But the big guy with the gun pointing at James snatched the phone from the little kid and didn’t sound so happy. ‘Don’t be thick all your life. If we call the cops, they’ll rip us off.’
Another skateboarder nodded. ‘They’ll beat the shit out of us and keep the reward themselves.’
James looked around for a way out, but the alley was a dead end and the big dude had the gun pointing right at him. He hurt all over and felt stupid for letting himself get jumped by a bunch of teenagers.
‘So what do we do, Joe?’ the little skateboarder asked anxiously.
‘Shut up and let me think,’ Joe said, as he looked down the barrel of the gun at James.
‘Let me use the phone,’ James said pathetically. ‘I know people. They’ll double your reward, I swear.’
Joe shook his head with contempt. ‘Yeah,’ he tutted. ‘You look so rich.’
He started dialling.
‘Who are you calling, Joe?’
‘The hotline number they put out on the radio this morning.’
‘Can you remember it?’
‘Triple eight, triple eight,’ Joe said. ‘What’s to remember?’
The freezing snow was melting into James’ clothes and his face was covered in blood. His stomach churned with pure terror. This might really be the end of the line. He’d never get back to campus, he’d never see Lauren or Kerry, he’d never see Arsenal score another goal, or do homework, or take a shit, or any of a million other mundane things that flashed through his mind. Within an hour he’d be locked in some basement cell with a couple of Obidin’s goons torturing him until he told them whatever they wanted to hear …
‘Hello,’ Joe shouted into the phone. ‘Are you the dude from the mayor’s office that was on the radio … ? Cool … Listen, I’ve got the English kid. Before I tell you where we’re at, I want to be sure that we’ll get the reward straight away. Cash on delivery …OK, cool …We’re over on the east side, street sixteen, near where the cinema used to be … Yeah he’s alive. I had to beat the shit out of him, but he’s just about conscious … So how long roughly … ? Right, we’ll be waiting.’
9. UNCLE
Barely ten minutes later, a man stepped out of a blinged-up 4x4, with fancy alloys and blacked-out windows.
‘Twenty-five thousand,’ the man smiled as he waved five hundred pounds’ worth of Russian currency in the air. James recognised the voice. It was Slava, the dude he used to chat to on the gate of the Obidin compound.
Joe looked happy; his four younger companions like it was too good to be true.
‘I want you boys to do me a favour,’ Slava said seriously. ‘Divide the money evenly, take it home and keep your mouths shut. You go showing that much cash around, you’ll get robbed.’
‘Wise words, boss,’ Joe nodded.
James had managed to sit up against the wall of the alleyway. He hurt in twenty different places, his jeans were soaked in melted snow and he was shivering badly.
‘What did you hit him with, a steamroller?’ Slava grinned, as he stepped up to James and pulled a set of handcuffs out of his jacket. ‘On your feet, boy.’
Not wanting another beating, James tried standing up.
But he only managed to prop himself on one knee before he felt faint and slumped back against the wall. As James made a second attempt, Joe grabbed his arm and yanked him up. Slava jerked James around to face the wall and locked the cuffs behind his back.
‘You boys help me walk him to the car,’ Slava said. ‘Then you’d better clear out of here.’
Joe nodded eagerly. ‘My name’s Josef Novosi, sir. Do you think you could put in a word for me? Maybe get me some work with Mr Obidin? I’m real strong. I did wrestling and gymnastics when I was younger; won medals and everything.’
Slava shrugged. ‘Things are mental after last night, but I’m sure