Free Black Coke by James Grenton Page A

just where his head had been. He grabbed his attacker’s ankles. He yanked him to the floor and pushed him down the stairs. He jumped up and rammed his way into the bedroom in front of him.
     
    Just a pile of trash in a corner and an unmade bed covered with ripped and stained sheets.
     
    ‘Found him?’
     
    It was Steve’s rusty voice. Nathan turned. Steve was leaning against the door frame, a half-grin on his rough face.
     
    ‘Let’s check the rest.’
     
    Nathan pushed past Steve, ignoring the clamour of the battle downstairs. He flicked on the light in the next room. It shimmered feebly, as wasted as the rest of the house’s inhabitants. Syringes, crack pipes and crumpled cigarette packs were strewn across the worn-out carpet. Nathan shook his head. It never stopped shocking him the depth of squalor junkies could descend into.
     
    ‘He ain’t here,’ Steve said. ‘Let’s try the other den down the road. That one’s heaving at this time of day.’
     
    Muffled sounds came from the third bedroom, across the landing. Nathan dashed towards it. He yanked the handle.
     
    Locked.
     
    The sounds turned into screams.
     
    ‘Give me a hand, Steve,’ Nathan shouted, as he pressed his shoulder against the door. Steve joined him. They hurled themselves against the door, but it was no use.
     
    Nathan leaned over the banister. ‘Hey, bring up the enforcer.’
     
    A heavy-built policeman jumped up the stairs and placed the battering ram in Nathan’s outstretched hands. Nathan took a step back. The screaming from inside the room was turning into shrieks of terror. Nathan leapt forward, smashing through the door and the table placed behind it.
     
    He froze.
     
    A gaunt-faced man had his arm round a young woman’s chest and a knife at her neck. He had pupils as wide as saucers and blood streaking from his nose. He was plump and bald and wore a white shirt and black trousers. The woman had leathery skin and gaunt cheeks, the result of years of drug abuse. She was shaking.
     
    ‘Don’t move,’ the man said, his gaze fixed on Nathan’s.
     
    Nathan stayed completely still, his mind rapidly assessing the situation. If he could calm the man down or somehow distract him, he’d then be able to reason with him long enough to move round and disarm him.
     
    ‘Leave her, Tony,’ Steve said over Nathan’s shoulder. ‘You’re in enough shit as it is.’
     
    Nathan tensed. Steve wasn’t helping.
     
    ‘Drop the knife, you fuckhead,’ Steve shouted.
     
    The knife drew a faint trickle of blood.
     
    Nathan dropped the enforcer. The floorboards cracked. Tony’s eyes narrowed.
     
    ‘Steve,’ Nathan hissed over his shoulder. ‘Let me deal with this.’ He held out his hands, lowered his voice. ‘Let her go. You’ll be alright.’
     
    ‘Get out of the fucking way,’ Tony said.
     
    ‘Let go of the knife. Come quietly.’
     
    More blood. The woman screamed. Nathan stepped sideways, palms outstretched. He signalled to Steve and the other policeman, who moved aside. Tony dragged the sobbing girl past them.
     
    ‘There’s twenty coppers down there,’ Nathan said.
     
    Tony waved the knife at them. He made his way through the door and stumbled down the stairways, pushing the girl before him. Nathan followed them down, a few steps behind. He toyed with shooting Tony, but he needed him alive.
     
    ‘Let him through,’ Nathan shouted to the policemen who had gathered at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Armed and dangerous.’
     
    Steve grabbed Nathan’s shoulder. ‘Are you crazy?’
     
    ‘If we try and stop him, he’ll kill her.’
     
    The policemen parted into two lines. Tony pulled the woman past them, then through the front doorway. He shoved her into the garden and ran off, his short legs showing astonishing speed. Nathan and Steve sprinted after him.
     
    Tony turned into a council estate and entered a building. Nathan rushed in, glancing up the stairwell.
     
    ‘No sign of him,’ he said to