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Dimitri had snuck up beside the hole into the tunnel. The automatic weapon poked through again.
“Down!” Dimitri shouted as he lunged at the gun, shoving the muzzle upwards so that it sprayed the ceiling. His other hand thrust his gun into the space the automatic had poked through, and fired several shots. He yanked the automatic from the dead man’s grip, turned it and fired into the tunnel.
Ryan took the guy he was fighting to the ground, yanked his knife from his belt and twisted it into the man’s side.
“What took you so long?” Callum asked.
“Dickhead was hard to kill.” Ryan got to his feet, taking the dead man’s weapon with him.
There was a thud, and Callum turned in time to see a grenade land about a foot from him.
“Fire in the hole!”
He threw himself over the kitchen counter just as the blast went off.
Two more men dropped through the hole in the ceiling following the blast. Callum rolled to his back and shot at them. Another blast rocked the house above them. A militia guy ran into the living area from the bedroom. He aimed at Dimitri. Ryan was on him instantly, taking the man down. Gunfire rang out in the house above them. There was shouting. Running.
Dimitri covered the tunnel while Ryan covered the hole in the bedroom ceiling. Callum got into a better position to fire at anything he saw through the gap that used to be the floor of his kitchen upstairs.
More gunfire. This time farther away.
“I think our boys are here,” Ryan said.
There was a noise from above.
“Don’t shoot,” someone called. “This is the Strathclyde armed response unit. Put down your guns.”
Callum wasn’t taking any chances. “This is Callum McKay of Benson Security. I’d rather you show yourself first, and then I’ll put down my gun.”
“Callum,” someone he recognised called. “It’s clear up here.” Lake Benson peered through the gap in the ceiling. “Casualties?”
“One. Jack Sinclair. Sixteen years old. Stab wound to the abdomen.”
Lake stood back and spoke to someone else. Ryan and Dimitri came into the room, guns in hand. Dimitri held out a hand to help Callum to his feet. His right leg didn’t work properly and the knee wouldn’t bend.
“That’s seventy thousand pounds down the drain,” Callum said.
“Seriously,” Ryan said, “you don’t have insurance?”
“I don’t think gunfire is covered.”
Lake’s face appeared again. “Get the door unblocked. The stairs are still functional. We have an ambulance on its way, ten minutes out. We’ll get the boy to Campbeltown hospital.”
Ryan and Dimitri started clearing rubbish from the door as Callum limped to the bathroom.
“Megan, don’t shoot,” Callum shouted. “It’s safe to come out. Do you hear me?”
“About time,” Megan shouted back.
He leaned against the wall, listening to the women clear the door. It flew open with a bang, and Isobel rushed out to him. She launched herself at him, and he caught her. Elle followed with Sophie, who watched everything with wide, red-rimmed eyes. Callum wrapped his arms around Isobel. She pressed her face to him and sobbed.
“It’s okay. It’s over.” He stroked her hair and held out an arm for Sophie. His heart turned over when she held her arms out and leaned towards him. He gathered her to him. “It’s okay,” he told them. “I’ve got you now.”
Ryan opened the steel-plated door, and Lake walked in. As usual, the Englishman looked like he’d been to the country club instead of in a gunfight.
“About time you got here,” Callum said.
Lake’s mouth twitched into his approximation of a smile. “We managed to hitch a copter ride from Glasgow, otherwise you’d still be waiting for your rescue.”
