by Mark Mannock
I was enjoying the energy and drive of the drums and the crowd. I could feel Brian’s rhythms pulsating through the stage floor. It was then that I looked up. The blinders had lit up the crowd at exactly the time the spotlight on the left-hand tower had lit up the right-hand lighting tower. For a split second night had turned into day, and my heart stopped. On top of the right tower I could clearly make out, if only for a second, the muzzle of a sniper rifle pointing toward the stage. Then the lights moved on and the tower went dark. The deadly vision was gone. I went cold. Stunned with fear, I realized exactly what was about to happen, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“Greatrex, Greatrex!” I yelled into my lapel mic. No response. This was the loudest part of the show. The crowd was going wild. He couldn’t hear me, and even if he could there was nothing he could do in time to prevent this awful thing from happening. Brian was coming to the end of his solo. Through the lights I could see Robbie standing in shadow, preparing to step back into the main spotlight. Each stroke of Brian’s drumsticks performing rim shots on his snare drum resounded around the arena like a gunshot … just like a gunshot.
I had no time to think, just react, but not as a musician. I ran across the front of the stage just as Robbie took his first step into the light. I connected with him on his second step as he was raising his hands to lead the applause. I pushed hard, sending the singer off-balance and reeling backward toward a row of amplifiers. He looked confused—he was confused. At the precise moment I pushed him, I heard one rim shot sound slightly different from the rest. I looked down. A section of the wooden stage at my feet splintered into small pieces. It was exactly where Robbie would have been standing. Robbie saw it too. He was getting to his feet but was now pale and silent.
No one else on stage had noticed anything except for the fact that Nicholas Sharp was acting like a crazed idiot. Certainly, no one in the crowd had heard the bullet or seen the eruption of splinters. They all thought this was all part of the show, with one exception.
“Nicholas, Nick, can you hear me?” It was Greatrex.
“Left-hand lighting tower, sniper rifle, we’re all good here. Go get him,” was my terse response.
I looked out to the tower. I knew Greatrex would be heading that way fast. I could just make out the shape of a person climbing down the tower. He had a case strapped to him. From the stage it looked like a soft electric guitar case, also just big enough to hold a rifle.
“He’s coming down the tower, he’ll be gone in two minutes,” I yelled.
“I’m on it,” responded Greatrex. He sounded out of breath.
I looked around. With Robbie not stepping up to carry on with the rest of the song, Brian had continued to provide a soundtrack to our drama with his explosive solo. While he didn’t know what was going on, he wouldn’t stop the show for anything. I ran over to Robbie.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Never been better.” He was a trooper. “Is it safe now?”
“Safe as houses. Greatrex is on it.”
From his state of confusion, it only took a couple of seconds for Robbie, the consummate professional, to come to terms with the situation.
“The last thing we need is fifty thousand people stampeding out of here. People would get hurt, or worse,” he said.
It was at that moment, Robbie West, a man who I already liked and admired, earned my lifelong admiration.
“Thanks, Nick. Now let’s finish this damn show.”
I reached out my hand. He took it, jumped up, and stepped straight back into the spotlight, virtually standing on the splintered hole in the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Brian Pitt on the drums …”
The crowd roared.
30
I didn’t know what to do next. There was no point in me running out into the audience. Greatrex and our fugitive sniper would be too far ahead for me to get close, even if I could find them in the throng.
“Jack, can you hear me?” I shouted into the mic.
Nothing.
We finished the song, and I put my guitar aside. It was time for me to start the final number with my usual piano introduction. There was nothing else I could do, so I started playing. At least this song began quietly, so I might hear Greatrex. The song began.
“Nicholas, can you hear me?” It was Greatrex.
“Loud and almost clear,” I responded.
“He got down the tower and into the crowd before I got there, but I’m following.”
“Okay.”
I looked into the crowd, I thought a few people at the front were looking at me curiously. The piano player who seems to talk to himself as he plays.
“Anything I can do?” I asked into the mic.
“I’ll get back to you in a minute.”
We continued playing, my fingers working from muscle memory. My mind was with Greatrex as he pursued Robbie West’s would-be assassin through the crowd.
“Nick?”
“I’m here.”
“He’s heading toward the VIP car park. You could probably cut him off if you go now,” instructed my friend. He was breathing hard.
As the last chord of the song sounded, I was off the stage and down the stairs. I was aware people were looking at me, but I didn’t care.
“How will I recognize him? I didn’t get a decent look from the stage.” I yelled into my mic as I ran.
“You didn’t need to,” responded Greatrex. “He’s still got the case, plus he turned around to see if he was being followed just as the lights lit him up. I saw him.”
“And?”
“Nick, it was Elliot Brooks.”
“Shit. But no surprise, I suppose.” I was running between rows of tents. More curious looks—care factor: zero.
“I’m almost at the car park,” I yelled.
“Likewise.”
Greatrex and I entered the VIP car park from different ends at almost the same time. I looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a dark figure with a guitar case slung over his shoulder. The figure was opening a car door. It was a dark-colored, nondescript Ford, and it was too far away. I wasn’t going to make it in time, and neither was Greatrex. Elliot Brooks turned around, looked at me, his face showing his usual obnoxious smirk. Then he threw the case onto the back seat, climbed in and slammed the door. A second later the car wheels spun in the dirt as he took off up the track.
“Greatrex, get our car,” I yelled.
Jack Greatrex was on it before I even got the words out. As I looked around, he was climbing into our black Mini. He started the engine and was on me in about three seconds. I jumped in.
“Go,” I screamed.
He was already going. I was glad we had a vehicle that was fast in the dirt. In no time at all we seemed to be almost on Elliot Brooks’ car.
I had hope.
Then I didn’t.
Elliot Brooks pointed a handgun out his passenger-side window and fired three shots at us in quick succession. Two missed our car but one hit a headlight, taking it out. I thought we’d now have to be a little more circumspect in our pursuit. Greatrex didn’t; he seemed to take no notice and accelerated up the road like he was starting a grand prix.
We were following Brooks as closely as we dared. The island roads were not designed for high-speed pursuits, and both cars were pushing their maximum capabilities. At first I thought we were heading back toward East Cowes, but then Brooks took a sharp left and we were headed west. He seemed to detour on and off the major roads as if trying to lose us, but we stuck to him. We had come too far in this whole despicable journey to let go now.
Before long we had bypassed Yarmouth and were heading south on a narrow road on the west coast of the island. Brooks clearly knew the island better than we did. We couldn’t see much in the darkness, and although it was only in our single headlight beam for a second, I thought I saw a sign saying the road we were on was not open to the public.
We were traveling very fast now, and the Min
i was screaming with pain around some of the tight corners. Greatrex was focused on nothing but the road and the car ahead. I looked to my right and saw the dark waters of the Solent, the moon reflecting on the white tops of the waves below. The only thing between our rapidly moving car and the water was a tiny section of grass leading to the edge of an alarmingly high cliff. Several times our rear wheels left the asphalt. Each time I thought we were done and were going to go over the edge, but Jack Greatrex was a very capable driver, and each time he brought us back onto the road. I, of course, was a terrible passenger; it was a control freak thing.
Brooks, who also knew how to drive, had pulled about fifty yards ahead of us when he rounded a corner and disappeared. We followed. Greatrex accelerated, the Mini’s engine howling as we rounded the same bend. Out of nowhere we were suddenly blinded by an incredible white light. I couldn’t see a thing and, more to the point, Greatrex couldn’t see a thing. He pounded on the brakes in a racing-style stop. The car slid sideways and spun around.
It seemed like forever that we slid over the grass, the cliff edge beckoning us like the devil himself. I had just decided we were done for when the car stopped. We were facing the water but could see no grass between us and the clifftop. It was a matter of inches.
My next thought was why could we see at all—where had that light come from? I looked over my shoulder to see three cars with their headlights, on high beam, directed at the bend we’d just been negotiating. There appeared to be men standing between the cars. I couldn’t make them out, but I could make out the familiar silhouettes of automatic machine guns strapped around their shoulders.
Brooks hadn’t been trying to lose us; he’d been trying to make sure we trailed him.
Like a couple of frenzied foxes, we had followed him directly into a trap.
Before either of us could climb out of the car, two dark figures appeared either side of us.
“Out.” It wasn’t a very polite invitation. It’s never very polite when someone is pointing a gun at you.
We climbed out of the Mini, careful not to step too close to the cliff edge. The men pointed in the direction of the other cars with their gun barrels.
“Move.”
We moved. As my eyes grew accustomed to the bright light, I recognized the two men behind us. One was Rowley, the other was the third of Winter’s enforcers from Portland, still unnamed.
Of course, I wasn’t surprised when Elliot Brooks stepped out from behind the lights. It was also no surprise when Giles Winter appeared next to him. All feelings of anything but anger disappeared when I saw him. I felt no fear, no frustration, no shame in our situation here on the clifftop. I only felt cold, hard fury.
“Mr. Sharp, Mr. Greatrex, you have disappointed me and made me very upset.”
“Go screw yourself, Winter,” I responded.
I waited a second, but there was no thump on the back of my head.
Winter ignored me and continued.
“First you removed the chemical weapons and nerve agent samples and have withheld them from me. Huge, huge mistake. Then, by a stroke of amateur luck, you managed to stop Brooks here from delivering the message I had planned to send to you, via the death of your friend Robbie West.”
“Next time you have something to say, just say it to our faces,” said Greatrex. I could feel his hatred from where I stood.
“Yes, I plan to. In fact, I’ll do it right now.”
Winters raised the pistol that I hadn’t seen in his hand and pointed it directly at Jack Greatrex.
Now I felt fear.
“No,” I yelled.
“All right,” Winter responded. He was playing with us.
I was relieved, but only for a second, as Santori then appeared from out of the darkness. He was not alone. He was dragging the struggling figure of a small child, an eight-year-old girl. It was Amira.
“Amira, sweetheart, are you okay?” I felt my voice break.
“Uncle Nick. Yeah, I’m all right, kind of.”
That sweet little girl was on the verge of tears, but trying to be strong, almost making it. She was her mother’s daughter.
“Don’t worry, little one,” I tried to assure her. “We’ll get through this.”
“She might get through this, Sharp. You certainly won’t. As I said, you have made me extremely annoyed.”
That was enough for Amira; she burst into tears.
“Shut up, child,” was Winter’s response.
I thought I’d been scared when Winter pointed his gun at Greatrex. But even that paled against the depth of emotion I felt right then. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced as I watched Giles Winter raise his gun and point it directly at Amira.
“You bastard,” were the only words that came out.
Winter turned to look at me. It was not the look of a sane man, but it was the look of a very dangerous one.
“How do you feel right now, Nicholas Sharp?”
His gun was still pointing at Amira. She was trembling.
“Do you feel scared?” he continued. “You should. Do you feel like a failure? You should feel that too.”
I said nothing. Greatrex said nothing. We had wanted to make Giles Winter angry, put him off his game. Now I just wanted to keep him calm, at least until his gun was pointing at somebody else.
“Now, let’s be clear.” Winter was speaking like a man possessed. “In the last few minutes I have shown you that I, and I alone, completely control the lives of you, your best friend, and this little girl of whom you are so fond. Remember this feeling, Nicholas. Remember how stupid you have been and how helpless you are right now.”
I would not forget, ever. I just stared blankly at Giles Winter. I was soaked in defeat.
“Let’s add to the equation the lives of the two ladies. Yes, that’s right, your friend Leyla and the young lady that I believe you have taken quite a shine to, Kaitlin Reed, are both here on the island as well.”
I wanted to feel relief that both Kaitlin and Leyla were alive, but hope had abandoned me.
“Now, let me tell you how this is going to work. People are going to die tonight. I think from the look on your face you have realized that already. It is now a question of numbers, collateral damage if you like. Your actions, and yours alone, will decide how many people will die and who they will be.”
Winter was still pointing the gun at Amira. She was still shaking.
Nothing from me.
“I assume that the chemical samples are somewhere here on the island?”
I nodded.
“You are going to get in your car, get them, and bring them to me. You have ninety minutes to do this. In exactly ninety minutes, if you do not arrive, and arrive alone, the first death will occur. Another person close to you will be shot every ten minutes after that, until you arrive.”
I heard a grunt. It was Greatrex. I could see him start to surge forward. It was a futile gesture among so many armed men, but he was blinded by outrage. He had the look of a man who just didn’t care anymore.
He went for Winter, but he had no chance.
“Jack, no,” I shouted.
At that moment Rowley appeared behind Greatrex and raised his gun.
“No,” I screamed again.
At the last minute, Rowley spun his gun around and brought the butt forcefully down on the back of Jack Greatrex’s head. My friend crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Winter just continued to speak, as though nothing had happened.
“To illustrate my compassion, I will leave the young girl as the last to be eliminated.” He pointed the gun away from Amira and back toward me.
This man gave new meaning to the term “calculated murder.”
“You will meet us at the old military battery at the end of this road. Jack Greatrex will stay here with us. He will be the first to be killed. You have precisely ninety minutes to save him, Sharp. I suggest you get moving.”
He then waved his gun toward our car. I began to move toward the vehi
cle. I was beyond numb.
“Oh, and one more thing, Sharp.”
I just wished Winter would shut up, but I turned around. I had no choice.
“If there is any sign that you have enlisted help, any help at all, everyone will be shot immediately. If we hear one gunshot, one rustle in the grass, that’s all it will take. Do you understand?”
I nodded. I understood.
31
As I drove back along the winding roads that Greatrex and I had traveled a short time earlier, I started weighing up my options. I was driving at speeds only marginally slower than we had on the way in. The driving seemed to focus my thoughts.
I had once been a well-respected Marine Scout Sniper. I was good at my job. The qualities that had made me good at my job, or at least the ones that I thought had made me good, were my ability to stay calm under immense pressure, analyze a situation quickly, and then act swiftly. In the past I had been able to keep all emotion out of the picture when required. It was the same with any professional shooter.
These were almost the complete opposite attributes needed to be a professional musician. A musician needed to call on a variety of emotions at any time, and to inhale the excitement of those around them. As I thought this through, I realized that Nicholas Sharp, conflicted man, was going to have to step aside. The former Nicholas Sharp, the calm, analytical, lethal version of me, was going to have to step up. Up to this point, emotion had been a big part of everything Greatrex and I did since Leyla and Amira first disappeared. Emotion had clouded my thinking and my judgment; in turn, it had impacted on my actions.
The more I processed this, the more I felt a cold, hard analytical resolve envelop me. To save those I loved I needed to be the man I was, not the man I am. So be it. No more talk of love. No more emotion. It was unaffordable.
I drove on into the night.
Just out of Newport I dialed the number the general had given me. He answered within two rings. I brought him up to date. He let out a sigh of relief when I told him his stepdaughter, Kaitlin, was still alive. I had two requests of him. He had people on the island ready to help, so I asked him to deliver some small arms weaponry to our hotel. He told me this had already been done, just in case we needed them. You don’t get to be a general without thinking ahead of the game. My second request was for him to have a crew stand by to clean up later. I didn’t know quite what or who they would be cleaning up, but I knew it was going to get messy back at the old battery on the cliff.
