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Tam nodded approvingly.
Rasmus’s car was on the east side of the traveller site, so we ran around the outskirts, taking us west. The idea would be to distract everyone away from Rasmus. We didn’t want to be spotted. The Irish were bound to be armed and would shoot before they asked questions.
Also, we didn’t want to start a feud with the Irish.
“Don’t set fire to one of the caravans,” Tam said. “There might be kids inside. Pick one of the cars instead.”
I agreed. This part was going to be dangerous.
“Try that one,” Tam said, nodding at an older vehicle. “I’ll cover you.”
His gun was in his hand.
I blew out a breath, steadying my heart rate. I needed to be calm and act with decisiveness. A mistake could get us both killed.
With the petrol can in hand, I ducked low and ran down to the old Ford Estate. Somewhere nearby, a dog started barking. I hoped it wasn’t going to alert his owner to there being a stranger nearby.
Staying hidden beside the car, I checked the door. It opened. Quickly, I poured some of the fuel inside, splashing the torn seats and the footwells. I searched my pockets and found an old receipt. I twisted it up and used the lighter to ignite it, then threw the whole lot in.
I ran back in the direction of the trees to join my brother once more. We needed to wait to make sure I’d done a good enough job with the car and then run back around to where we thought Rasmus was located.
From our vantage point, we waited and watched. The first flickers of flames lit up the early morning. The fire quickly caught and spread. If there was petrol in the tank—which I hoped there was—it would go boom once it caught light as well.
“That’s good,” Tam said. “Let’s go.”
I nodded, and keeping low and staying between the trees, we ran back to where we’d started. Even from this point, across the other side of the site, we could see the glow of the car we’d torched.
We waited.
The car exploded, the blast shattering through the sunrise.
People burst from their caravans, shouting to one another. Shotguns were positioned on shoulders. Smaller weapons held at sides. The travellers pointed in the direction of the burning car and set off at a run.
The door of the caravan the Mercedes was parked beside opened. I stiffened. Was it Rasmus?
A man I didn’t recognise stuck out his head and looked around. He held a gun slightly in front of his body, not aiming it but keeping it ready. By the way he wasn’t automatically joining in with the rest of the travellers, I assumed he was one of Rasmus’s men. Did that mean Rasmus was in there? Did they know we’d set the fire as a distraction or was this just a normal event on the site?
Anger boiled inside me. That son of a bitch. He’d killed Jodie and beaten the living shit out of his own daughter. He didn’t deserve to live.
“I’m going down,” I told Tam.
My brother caught my arm. “Wait. Just give it another few minutes.”
The man emerged from the caravan, and a second one followed. As we’d hoped, they were distracted by the burning vehicle.
“Now,” Tam said.
Staying low, we ran towards the caravan. I hoped Rasmus was still inside. His two men had moved away now, following the shouts of the travellers and the flames from the car. I didn’t want them to see us, knowing they’d start shooting. The moment shots were fired, the rest of the travellers would be alerted to our presence, and then things were going to get ugly.
Three steps led up to the caravan door, but I didn’t go up them. Instead, I leaned in and rapped my knuckles lightly against the door.
I put on an Irish accent. “Rasmus, you’d better get out here! There’s trouble.”
Movement came from inside the caravan, and we braced ourselves.
Tam stood on one side of the door, while I was on the other. Both of us had our backs pressed to the wall and our guns ready.
The door opened a crack, and Rasmus’s head poked out. “Wha—”
