Revenge

by Mark A. Cooper

  The gunman was thrown back against the wall. He was stunned but still standing, and worse still, he held onto his gun. Jason landed next to him on the floor and struck out at the hand with the gun. It fired and sent a bullet into the ceiling.

  With his other hand, the gunman grabbed for Jason’s weapon. He wrapped his hand around Jason’s, which was still gripping the gun he’d gotten off the guy in the kitchen, and tried to turn it on Jason. Overpowered by the man’s stronger hands, Jason brought his knee up into the man’s groin. The gunman screamed out and fell to his knees, taking Jason with him. But the man still clung to both guns.

  “Help me,” Jason shouted to Martin. He was now pinned down and was slowly losing the grip on his gun. No help came. The others huddled together, terrified. Jason tried a judo throw. He was used to training with adults and hoped he could use the man’s weight advantage against him. It worked, and the man went over Jason’s shoulders. He landed on his back but didn’t let go of the guns.

  But Jason saw the barrel of the gun was now covered by the man’s hand, so he pulled the trigger. Blood splattered both of them, and the man let go of both guns and clenched his hand while he cursed and screamed in pain. A bullet to the head silenced him. Jason got up and kneeled down next to the leader, who was lying on the ground and holding his shoulder. Jason stuck the gun under the wounded man’s chin.

  “Who sent you?” Jason shouted. Before he could answer, a bullet zinged past Jason. A fifth gunman entered and shot at Jason again, but he had missed and hit his own man. Jason dove behind the bed. He looked under it and could see a man creeping forward. He shot his last two bullets into the man’s foot and ankle. The gunman screamed in pain and crashed to the ground. Jason was up and over the bed. He picked up the man’s gun, kneeled down, and asked the same question.

  “Okay, since you killed him, I’ll ask you. Who sent you?” Jason shouted after he stuck the gun under the man’s chin.

  “I don’t speak English,” the man said back in Chinese. He was in severe pain. Sweat beads started to form on his face.

  Jason asked again, this time in Chinese, “Who sent you? If you don’t tell me, I will shoot.” The Youngs and Joanne looked at Jason in amazement. Not only could he shoot and fight, he could also speak Chinese.

  “Boudica.”

  “How many others are there?” Jason asked, pushing the gun harder against the man.

  “Three.” With that answer, Jason pulled back his gun. With his right hand, he squeezed the man’s main artery to the brain. Within a few seconds, the man was unconscious.

  “Come on. We have to get out of here,” Jason said as he picked up another gun. “Come on…move. There’s another three hit men, and they will stop at nothing until you two are dead.”

  Jason crept to the front door. He could see two cars farther up the drive. Alongside them, there stood three men watching the villa. Jason ran back into the bedroom, where the others were still sitting on the bed and sobbing.

  “Mrs. Young, we are going out the window. We will climb down to the next villa and try to get help.”

  With tears running down her face, she nodded back. Jason went first and the others followed. They crept down to the lower lawn and started to climb down the bank to the villa below. It was quite steep, and when they got close to the bottom, they found a twelve-foot drop to the patio on the villa below. Jason looked down. He was sure he could jump it but unsure if Mrs. Young and Joanne could. He paused, looking for a better way. Martin caught up with him and jumped down.

  “Pass Joanne down to me,” he said, raising his arms. He was then knocked across the back of the head with a broomstick.

  “Pervers…aller loin,” the young woman shouted in French. “Pervers!”

  Martin crouched down and tried to defend himself. Joanne let out a huge scream. Jason quickly turned and told her to be quiet, but it was now probably too late.

  “Nous avons besoin d’aide. Appelez la police,” Jason shouted to her in French. The woman looked up at Jason and pointed.

  “Pervers,” she screamed.

  “Appelez la police,” Jason shouted back as he lowered Joanne down. The French woman decided to follow Jason’s advice and call the police. Jean jumped down herself followed by Jason.

  “What was she saying?” Jean asked.

  “I don’t know. I told her to call the police,” Jason lied as he checked to see if they were being followed.

  “I thought she called you a—” Jean said only to be interrupted by Martin.

  “Well, she is French. They’re all crazy. Too much wine, snails, and frog legs,” Martin said, trying to change the subject and, with rolling eyes, mimicking someone drinking. “Jason, just how many languages do you speak?”

  “Run!” Jason shouted. “They’re coming.”

  Chapter 18

  Two men were climbing down the bank, and the other was driving his car along the French owner’s driveway toward the villa. They followed Jason behind the villa. The lawn met a grove of orange trees. “Come on. We have to hide.”

  They followed Jason into the grove. It ran down the side of the mountain. Jason stopped to take his bearings.

  “This way,” he said, climbing up the steep mountain. “The trees will give us cover.”

  “No, Jason, we should go down toward Malaga. It will be easier and faster,” Jean replied, grabbing Joanne by the hand.

  “No!” Jason was defiant.

  “Jason, Mum is right. That’s too hard-going. None of us have any shoes on, and it’s much easier to go down and try to get help,” Martin said, walking downward. Two gunshots were heard.

  “What was that? Are they shooting at us?” Joanne screamed.

  “No, that was probably the French lady getting shot. Look, I know it’s easy to go down and quicker, but that is what they would expect. Wong Tong says to win a battle, you must do the opposite to what your enemy expects. We go up,” Jason commanded. Reluctantly, they followed Jason, who was running up the steep hillside and keeping close to the thick cover of the orange trees.

  After twenty minutes, Jason stopped and sat down cross-legged. The heat was intense, buffeting his face. He examined his feet. The rough terrain of the Spanish mountain was made up of stones, volcanic rock, and dirt. Jason’s feet were cut and bleeding. He tried to pull out the tiny stones and sand particles from his cuts. Joanne joined him and checked her feet. She was still sobbing and shaking.

  “Jason, just who are you? And who is Wong Tong?” Martin asked, sitting on the ground and panting.

  “Wong Tong was my karate instructor in Hong Kong. I was born there and moved to England when I was ten. That’s where I learned to speak Chinese.”

  “But who are you? You just shot all those men and fought them by yourself,” Jean said.

  “I’ve got a black belt in various styles of karate and judo. I’ve been working for George undercover.”

  “So you are—what? A boy spy?” Martin asked.

  “No, I’m—” Jason started but paused. “I don’t know what I am. I’m just helping SYUI.”

  “You killed back there and I don’t think this is your first time,” Jean said, hugging Joanne.

  “I was in Jakarta with the Sea Cadets when we were attacked. I was one of the lucky survivors.”

  “Oh, that was horrible, you poor boy,” Joanne said.

  “Okay, I think we should keep going a bit farther. We need to get help,” Jason said, standing painfully. They followed him farther up the mountain. The pace was much slower now.

  The hot Costa del Sol sun dried the air and burned into Jason’s back. He and Martin were wearing just swimming trunks. The terrain got rougher the higher they went until they came to the end of the orange grove. Jason stopped and tried to shelter himself from the sun under one of the last orange trees.

  “I ca
n’t go on. My feet are burning. The stones are too hot,” Martin complained as he sat down next to Jason.

  “Jason, I think we should rest,” Jean said, wiping the sweat from her face with her forearm. Jason nodded and looked down. His neck and shoulders were badly sunburned. It felt good to take the weight off his feet.

  “You’re right. I think we should stay here until its gets dark. We’ll be in the open once we move forward. It will be much safer to go on under the cover of darkness.”

  “I’m not staying up here all night.” Jean said. “You will have to think of something else.”

  Jason looked at her incredulously. “Think of something else? What do you think I am?” He said loudly.

  “You’re a spy. Dad put you with us to look after us.” Martin snapped back.

  “I’m not a spy. I am here for my protection as much as yours. I don’t have a plan or any clue how to get out of this. George asked you to look after us,” he said gesturing at Joanne.

  “Then why did you lead us up here?” Jean said crossly.

  “To survive—that’s all. To go down would have meant capture and death. Look at me. I have no shoes or shirt. Just a gun stuffed down my swimming shorts. My feet are killing me too. I don’t know what to do.” The others went quiet and looked at each other. Jason sat back down with his back to them. Jean sat down next to Jason. She could see he was getting upset. She put her hand on Jason’s arm.

  “Sorry, honey. We don’t blame you. We are all just scared. You saved our lives and got us this far. We will work this out together.”

  The comforting words were emotional for Jason. He looked down to the ground and watched a teardrop land in the gravel below him. He wiped his face and eyes and tried to think of something.

  After another three hours, the light faded from the sky and an indigo glow descended on the scenery. The relentless heat of the sun vanished. The air became cool and faintly smelled of the sweet aroma from the orange grove.

  They continued on and over the jagged top of the mountain. As they started the descent, relief came when the rough rocky surface became damp grass that tickled their feet. Cattle grazed and wandered sleepily on the hillside. In the distance, they could see a faint light of a farmhouse. It took a lot longer than they had first thought to reach the house, but as they got closer, they could make out three buildings. One was the farmhouse, and the others looked like barns. A dog barked as they drew close. Jason stopped to take in his surroundings.

  “What’s wrong?” Jean asked and put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Ouch,” Jason yelped, pulling away quick. “I’m burned.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I don’t really know what the best thing to do is. If we call the police, how do we know Boudica’s people won’t find us? The local police can’t really be trusted. How do we know they’re not already here? I think we should hide in the barn for the night and see what’s around in the daylight,” Jason suggested, still trying to make out the shapes of the farmyard in the darkness.

  “No, I’m thirsty and tired and want a bed. Look, he has a truck. He can drive us to a hotel,” Joanne whined.

  “Duh…and pay with what?” Martin interrupted.

  “Jason may be right. They killed the poor French lady. They would kill the farmer without hesitation,” Jean said. Her voice was harsh. She was dehydrated and tired.

  They followed Jason to the barn. A few chickens clucked as they entered. The fresh smell of straw greeted them. Martin climbed up a ladder to the top of the stack.

  “This will make a great bed. A bit prickly but warm.” He grinned as he bounced on his knees. Jason felt around and came across a sink with a water tap. It squeaked as he turned the knob. Warm water eventually spluttered into the dusty sink. He washed his hands and face and bent down and started to drink. Jean and Joanne also drank from it like they had never drank water before.

  “It’s the best water I have ever tasted.” Joanne smiled, running it over her hands.

  Jean found a blanket. It was probably dirty, but it was so dark, who could tell? They climbed the ladder and made a large bed. Jean was in the middle with Martin and Joanne on either side of her, with Jason on the end next to Joanne. They lay close together for warmth, looking at a few stars they could see through a small hole in the barn roof.

  “Why did that French lady hit Martin?” Joanne asked. “What did she call him? Peverto or something?” Jason looked at Martin and grinned, glad to be alive.

  Chapter 19

  Boudica was hiding out in Manchester. Her underground contacts across the United Kingdom feared her but would never betray her. The Triads protected each other. An enemy of one triad was an enemy of all of them. She threw a raw chicken leg to her leopard. She had not slept much the last twenty-four hours.

  The phone rang next to her bed. “Yes?” she answered.

  “Boudica, it’s Ping Chu. I have some bad news,” the caller said nervously.

  “It’s all bad news.” She clicked her fingernails on the small table in annoyance.

  “George Young’s family got away, taking the girl with them. Three of our men were killed, and several others are injured. One is serious.”

  “How could this happen?” Boudica shrieked. “She’s a stupid housewife with a teenage son. Can’t you do anything right?”

  “There was someone else with them—someone who speaks Chinese. He questioned our men. He knows it was you who sent them.”

  “Young must have hired a good bodyguard, but Kotang will sort him out,” she spat.

  “They said it was a boy—a boy of about twelve with blond hair. Boudica, they say he is a demon—that he moved like lightning.”

  Boudica stood. She threw a table lamp against the wall and screamed in anger.

  “He’s not a demon, you stupid man! He’s just a boy and sadly still alive. Lin Cho must have missed the little brat. It seems even I have now underestimated Jason Steed. I will get a message to Kotang. I want his heart brought back to me for Luke. If it’s still beating when I rip it out of his pretty, little body, I will pay an extra fifty thousand. Find out where they are and await Kotang and the others. We must get that girl,” she screamed and then slammed the phone down.

  “Don’t worry, Luke. Mummy will soon get you another boy to eat. You enjoyed Andrew Cho, didn’t you? Well, this one is even younger and much prettier.” She laughed and licked her blood-stained fingers.

  • • •

  Jean stretched her legs as she awoke in the barn. She turned to her side and looked at Martin. His eyes opened, and he smiled at her. She bent forward and kissed him.

  “How did you sleep?” she whispered.

  “Like a log.” He yawned. She turned and looked at Joanne and Jason. Joanne was spooning Jason close for warmth. Her face was buried into the back of his neck. They were both still asleep. Jean and Martin got up and climbed down the ladder. It was getting brighter outside. They looked out a small cobweb-covered window but could see no signs of life outside. A cockerel just a few feet away screeched its morning crow, which made Jean and Martin jump.

  Jason and Joanne opened their eyes. She had her arm around him and felt him move as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

  “You’re nice and warm. I was cold in the night,” she sighed.

  “So was I,” Jason said as he yawned.

  Jean came back up the ladder when she heard them talking and smiled at them. “You look like two tiny lovebirds. I am going to the farmhouse. There’s no one around. I’ll see if I can get something to eat. I speak a little Spanish. Martin will come with me,” Jean said.

  Jason lifted his head and looked at her. His blond hair was a sticking up in all directions and had straw in it. He thought he should go with them, but he was cold, tired, and happy where he was for now. He enjoyed having Joanne’s arm around him. It
was the closest thing he had had to a hug for a long while.

  Let an adult do something for a change, he told himself as he put his head back down.

  Sunlight broke into the barn when Martin and Jean opened the door. Then they made their way to the farmhouse. Martin raised his hand to knock, but to his surprise, it swung open. A small, thin man with a sun-cracked face looked at them.

  “Hola,” he said and grinned. Jean explained that she and her son were lost, and he invited her in. Once inside, she noticed a man sitting at the table and drinking a coffee. He was huge and looked like a sumo wrestler in a suit.

  Jean held Martin’s hand. The big man was out of place and she was instantly nervous.

  “Just the two of you?” the large man questioned.

  “Yes, just me and Bobby,” she lied.

  “Bobby? I don’t think he’s called Bobby. This is the first farmhouse north of your villa. I knew you would come here. George—that’s his name.” He put his hand inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a picture with George, Jean, and Martin and then placed it on the table.

  Jean pushed Martin to the door. “Run, Martin. Run!” she screamed. Kotang caught her by her hair. He pulled her back and smashed his elbow into her face. Her limp body collapsed on the wooden floor. Kotang moved to the door, pulled out his gun, and fired a single shot that caught Martin in the back. He crashed to the dusty gravel in pain.

  Jason and Joanne sat up. Jason slid down the ladder and looked out the window. He saw Martin lying on the ground, trying to crawl away. His fingers plowed through the dirt as he tried to drag his body away to safety. Then he saw Kotang striding toward Martin, the gun in his hand. Jason took the gun from his shorts and ran to the door and fired on Kotang. The distance was greater than Jason had realized. He missed with four shots, and Kotang returned fire. Jason dove back behind the door. Kotang emptied his gun of bullets into the barn. Jason ran to the window and fired again. This time, he hit Kotang in the shoulder. When Kotang fell to the ground, Jason ran back to the door and fired his last shot, his shaking hand causing him to miss again. A cloud of dirt bounced off the ground next to Kotang’s leg. Kotang took out a box of .22 bullets from his pocket. He took out the clip from his gun to reload.