Free Fightback by Steve Voake Page B

their way into the back room, Tights began pulling black bin bags from his pocket and Kier decided it was time to make his move.
    â€˜Hi,’ he said, taking three steps forward. ‘Are you guys making a film or something?’
    The man’s head jerked up in surprise and Kier saw how his nose was squashed out of shape by the tights, making his face look as though it had been moulded out of Plasticine.
    â€˜Get on the floor!’ the man yelled.
    â€˜Hey,’ said Kier, ‘that’s really good. Can I have your autograph?’
    As the man pulled back the mechanism of the pump-action shotgun, Kier heard the cartridge thump into the chamber and cursed himself for not noticing that it wasn’t already loaded. But then he saw the way the man’s hands were shaking and guessed he probably shouldn’t spend too much time thinking about it.
    â€˜I won’t tell you again. On the floor!’
    â€˜OK, OK.’ Kier held up his hands and smiled apologetically. ‘No need to get upset.’
    But the man was getting very upset, and Balaclava was turning round to see what the fuss was about.
    Time to begin.
    Still smiling, Kier transferred his weight to the balls of his feet, shifting his centre of gravity until his legs buckled at the knee. At the same time he spread his fingers slightly, hands a shoulder width apart as he moved towards the floor. All this in around one-tenth of a second. When he was atroughly a forty-five-degree angle to the ground he allowed himself a final glance to check the man’s exact position, then took all the tension out of his muscles and let gravity do the rest. In the split second before he hit the floor he pushed back with the tips of his toes, ducked his head down and pressed his hands into the carpet. The resulting momentum carried him into a brief handstand before flicking him forward so that the soles of his feet landed hard and square in the centre of the man’s chest. As the man went down, Balaclava raised his shotgun and Kier brought the heel of his palm up under his chin so that he crashed back into a table, flipping it sideways and sending leaflets fluttering through the air. The gun skidded across the carpet and Kier flicked it up with his foot, catching it and aiming the barrel at Tights, who was reaching for the other shotgun.
    â€˜I wouldn’t if I were you,’ he said.
    But Tights wasn’t listening, so when he brought the gun up with his finger curled around the trigger, Kier took aim and blew it out of his hands. As fragments of wood and metal pinged off the walls, Kier reloaded and spun around to face Balaclava, who was crawling across the carpet towards him.
    â€˜What was it again?’ he asked. ‘Oh yeah, that’s right.’
    He smiled and pointed the shotgun at him.
    â€˜Kiss the carpet.’
    As the man lay down, Kier glanced around and decided that things weren’t looking good. He’d put two armed robbers on the floor in less than a minute and he hadn’t even broken sweat. Not quite the low-key observation Jackson had in mind.
    Time I was gone , he thought.
    He had just decided to slide the shotgun through the door handles on his way out when his phone rang. As he pulled it out to answer it and saw Saskia’s name flash up on the display, the doors of the bank flew open and he was faced with three armed policemen, all aiming their guns at him.
    â€˜Armed police!’ one of them shouted. ‘Drop your weapon!’
    Instead, Kier dropped the phone, lowered the barrel of the shotgun and pulled the trigger. As the phone exploded into a thousand pieces he dropped to the floor and lay still, waiting patiently for the three policemen to jump on his back with their heavy boots on and cuff him.
    Which, three seconds later, is exactly what they did.

FOURTEEN
    When Kier arrived at the police station the two bank robbers were already there, swearing and struggling with their handcuffs, which made