Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [4]
Narraway looked over at Pitt, a warning in his eyes, then he strode across the cobbles to the men with the ram. Another volley of shots rang out from an upstairs window, cracking on the walls and ricocheting, or thudding, embedded in the wood of the carts.
Pitt fired back, then changed the direction of his aim. It was a different window, one from which nobody had fired before. He could see the shattered glass now, bright in the reflected sunlight.
There were shots from several places, the house, the street below it, and at the far end of the lane. A policeman crumpled and fell.
No one moved to help him.
Pitt fired upward again, one window then another, wherever he saw a shadow move, or the flash of gunpowder.
Still no one went for the wounded man. Pitt realized no one could, they were all too vulnerable.
A bullet hit the metal of the lamppost beside him with a sharp clang, making his pulse leap and his breath catch in his throat. He steadied his hand deliberately for the next shot back, and sent it clear through the window. His aim was getting better. He left the shelter of the lamppost and set off across the street towards the constable on the ground. He had about seventy feet to go. Another shot went past him and hit the wall. He tripped and half fell just short of the man. There was blood on the stones. He crawled the last yard.
“It’s all right,” he said urgently. “I’ll get you safe, then we can have a look at you.” He had no idea whether the constable could hear him or not. His face was pasty white and his eyes were closed. He looked about twenty. There was blood on his mouth.
There was no way Pitt could carry him because he dared not stand up; he would make a perfect target. He might even be accidentally hit by a ricocheting bullet from his own men, who were now firing rapidly again. He bent and picked up the constable’s shoulders, and inching backwards awkwardly, pulled him over the cobbles, until at last they were in the shelter of the carts.
“You’ll be all right,” he said again, more to himself than anyone else. To his surprise the man’s eyes flickered open and he gave a weak smile. Pitt saw with heart-lurching relief that the blood on his mouth was from a cut across his cheek. Quickly he examined him as much as he could, to find at least where he was hit, and bind it. He kept on talking quietly, to reassure them both.
He found the wound in the shoulder. It was bloody but not fatal. Probably hitting his head on the cobbles as he fell had been what had knocked him senseless. Without his helmet, it would have been worse.
Pitt did what he could with a torn-off sleeve to make a pad and press it onto the site of the bleeding. By the time he was finished—perhaps four or five minutes later—others were there to help. He left them to get the man out, and picked up his gun again. Bending low, he ran over to the men with the ram just as the frame splintered and the door crashed open against the wall.
Immediately inside was a narrow stairway. The men ran up ahead of him, Narraway on their heels, Pitt right behind.
There was a shot from above them, raised voices and footsteps, then more shots in the distance, probably at the back of the house.
He went up the stairs two at a time. On the third floor up he found a wide room, probably having originally been two. Narraway was standing in the hard light from the broken windows. At the far end, the door to the stairs down towards the back was swinging open. There were three police cradling guns, and two young men standing still, almost frozen. One had long dark hair and wild eyes. Without the blood and the swelling on his face he would have been handsome. The other was thinner, almost emaciated, his hair red-gold. His eyes were an almost too pale greenish-blue. They both looked frightened and trying to be defiant. Simply and violently, two of the police forced the manacles on them.
Narraway inclined his head towards the doorway where Pitt was standing in a silent instruction to the police to take the prisoners away.
Pitt stepped aside to let them pass, then looked