The Lipstick Killers

armed. And then there’s Peter and Susan. It’s not looking good Roxie.’
    ‘So what do we do?’
    ‘If it wasn’t for Mahoney and the kids I’d burn the fuckers out. As it is, they don’t know we haven’t called for backup, and are just waiting for SO19 to come steaming in guns blazing, so I reckon they’ll make a move sharpish.’
    ‘There’s one thing,’ said Roxie.
    ‘What?’
    ‘How did they get here? Sharon’s car is here, and Mahoney’s. But they must’ve driven themselves.’
    ‘Stashed away on the woods like ours.’
    ‘Right. And that’s what they need.’
    ‘Clever girl. That means they have to get out of there.’
    As if to prove her point, one of the front windows broke with a crash, a gun barrel protruded and three shots were fired in rapid progression, hammering into the metal of Mahoney’s car. Peter Saint Cyr, and the two women ducked down, as a figure emerged from behind the cottage, jumped the fence and vanished into the surrounding undergrowth.
    ‘Told you,’ said Margaret.
    ‘What do we do?’ asked Roxie.
    ‘There’s only two of them inside now. We go in and shoot the shit out of them.’

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    ‘You stay here,’ Margaret said to Roxie. ‘And give me some cover. I’m going round the back.’
    ‘For Christ’s sake, be careful.’
    ‘I will.’
    Carrying the two guns they’d picked up in Haywood’s office, Margaret broke cover and headed for the back of the cottage. More shots rang out from the window and bullets dug up dirt around her feet as she ran, then Roxie fired a volley which dug dust from the bricks in the cottage wall, and the firing ceased.
    Margaret threw herself into a forward roll and ended up by the fence that surrounded the cottage’s small back garden. The hedge and rose bushes planted inside had been allowed to grow wild and gave her perfect cover, except for one narrow gap that led to a hole in the fence. At the back of the building was a glass-panelled door that she remembered led into the kitchen, one window on the ground floor, and two upstairs.
    Betcha there’s one of them up there, she thought. Well, here goes nothing, and she stood. That window also blew out and more bullets smashed through the foliage in front of her. She pushed through the gap and ran for the back door. Christ, don’t let there be anyone waiting there, she said to herself as she kicked the door open.
    Inside the kitchen was empty.
    She charged across the floor and saw Mahoney through the doorway, huddled on the sofa. He was bound with his own handcuffs, and next to him, with eyes like saucers, her niece and nephew. Then from the hall, the hooded man stuck his head round the door and Margaret let off a volley of bullets that drove him back out of sight. The small room was filled with smoke and her ears rang with the noise of the shots. ‘Get down,’ she screamed at Mahoney. ‘Get the kids down on the floor.’
    He reacted with speed, and although his wrists were tied together he wrestled the children to the floor, then lay over them, his body protecting them.
    Margaret saw his eyes on her, and she smiled, then heard footsteps from the floor above. The cottage was old and the ceiling in the kitchen was plaster – so she bet that the floor above was wooden. Mags fired through the ceiling and heard a scream of pain and a heavy thump and plaster gently fell around her like snow.
    She looked back into the living room. All was quiet for a moment, so she dropped to the floor and crawled over to Mahoney and the children. She pulled the keys to her cuffs from her pocket and miraculously they fitted Mahoney’s. He threw them aside and she thrust one of her guns into his hand. ‘I hope you can use this,’ she said.
    ‘Where did you spring from?’ he asked.
    ‘No time. There’s one outside.’
    He nodded, as they heard the front door open only to be answered with more shots from Roxie’s gun, then the door slammed again. Margaret made for the hall door and peered round to see the hoodie facing her, his gun arm raised. He fired and she fired back, knocking him to the floor. The silence was broken by the sound of a gun being cocked up the short flight of stairs. Mahoney appeared behind her, fired, and the gun bounced down the flight – followed by a body.
    ‘Thanks Mahoney,’ she said. ‘Looks like we had a result.’

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    But she spoke too soon as they heard the sound of a heavy engine outside, and a man’s voice shouted to Roxie to drop