For Your Own Protection(39)

Maybe it was the noise of the traffic that muffled the footsteps of his pursuer.

A large hand gripped him tightly around the back of the neck and pushed him violently down the dark side alley he’d been so unfortunate as to be standing next to.

The man from the club spun Matt around and rammed him into the brick wall. A wave of pain reverberated around Matt’s head. ‘You still ain’t answered my question, man.’

‘Please, she led me to the dance floor. I didn’t speak to her. I don’t know who she is.’

The guy didn’t seem interested in Matt’s explanation. His aggression was growing, and any reasoning seemed futile. There seemed a certain inevitability about what was going to happen, as if it had already been written. ‘D’you know who I am, man?’

Matt shook his head, scared.

The man smiled. He had a gold cap on one of his front teeth. ‘No, didn’t think so.’

Matt heard a flick, and with some terror, saw the blade of a knife.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


Catherine caught the tail end of the breaking news on the radio. A woman had fallen in front of a Tube train this evening at King’s Cross.

It piqued her interest enough to search for the story online on her phone.

Details were still coming through, but the police weren’t ruling out foul play. Several witnesses had reported a man fleeing from the scene directly after the woman had fallen on to the rails.

Detective Inspector Paul Cullen from the British Transport Police had said it was a miracle the woman had narrowly missed the approaching train. He appealed for more witnesses and asked the public to study a series of CCTV images of the person of interest.

Catherine scrolled through the images.

She caught her breath.

Could it be?





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT


Tyrone moved in even closer. Matt could smell alcohol and tobacco on his breath, could feel the man’s spittle land on his own face as he said words that, in his horror, Matt could no longer hear. As if he was some kind of backstreet barber, the man brought the blade up against Matt’s cheek and traced its cold edge along the side of his face. Matt screwed his eyes shut, trying desperately to think of a way out of this. Maybe Tyrone’s girlfriend would follow him out of the club and plead with him to stop. But surely she’d be here by now. Maybe the guy was just trying to scare him. Maybe he wouldn’t use the knife.

‘I’m wonderin’ just how much to cut you up.’

‘Please, please, I’m sorry.’ Again Matt ran through the options he had. Tyrone was standing really close – it might be possible to bring a knee up to his groin, inflict just enough damage for Matt to break free and flee for his life. But that was a high-risk manoeuvre. If it didn’t come off, it would just make things worse.

But can things get any worse?

And then came an alternative idea.

‘Harvey,’ he spluttered, as the blade toyed with the soft skin underneath his chin. ‘I’m a friend of Harvey Taylor.’

The man laughed. ‘Shit, man. This just gets better. You his lawyer or somethin’?’

Matt shook his head. He longed for the blade to be removed. ‘No, no. His teacher.’

Tyrone laughed again. ‘Well, if there’s one thing I hate more than Harvey Taylor, it’s teachers. Made my life a misery, man. So thank you for making this all the sweeter.’

He withdrew the blade and slipped it back into his trouser pocket. Confused, Matt allowed a shaft of optimism to pierce the darkness. But that soon slipped away as the man turned briefly to his right, before winding up and letting fly with a crushing hammer-blow of a punch to Matt’s abdomen. Matt opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He had never been hit so hard. He folded towards the ground, but was pulled back upright by his hair.

‘Stay standin’. You’re gonna take this like a man, you son of a—’

Tyrone didn’t get to finish his sentence. From the darkness, a fist crashed into the side of his head, sending him staggering sideways in shock and pain.

‘What the—’

Harvey closed the gap between them, and in one swift movement grabbed the man and threw him into the wall opposite. He hit the brickwork face first, almost bouncing off the surface. Harvey delivered another punch to Tyrone’s head and swept his feet from underneath him. Matt watched, frozen to the spot, as Harvey kicked Tyrone several times in the gut. The man, so powerful just a few seconds ago, was curled up on the floor in the foetal position, begging for his life and holding a busted, bloody nose.

Harvey wiped his mouth and jabbed a finger down at him. ‘Next time you mess with one of my friends, I’ll kill you. You understand?’

Tyrone mumbled something.

Another kick, this time to his back. ‘You understand?’

‘Yes, yes!’

‘Good.’ Harvey turned to Matt. ‘C’mon, let’s go.’

Matt followed Harvey, but paused at the corner to check on Tyrone. He was still lying on the ground, but thankfully he was moving. Matt didn’t want to think that this man, whatever he had been intending to do, would be anything more than temporarily hurt.

‘C’mon,’ Harvey repeated, pulling at Matt’s shoulder. ‘He’ll be fine.’

Matt resisted the pull, still watching the man on the floor. ‘How can you be sure? He might need medical attention.’