Chapter 29
Dusty Miller did not venture far into the scrub. He found a clear patch of earth behind a bush he thought might hide him from the frantic chase that would take place when the pair realized he had gone. But it wouldn’t be Markham that would chase. It would be Bo. And Bo had taken the car. So he had a bit of time to wait.
It was damn cold in just his boxer shorts now it was dark. He decided he needed exercise after being tied up so long, so he began some energetic press ups, then arm exercises. He went through the whole gamut of army PE. By this time he was perspiring. The next fifteen minutes he spent daubing himself in mud, starting with his face, and then the whole of his body. He didn’t want to stand out in the dark. He laid down on the earth, and fell asleep.
He was awake in an instant when the car arrived back at the house. He got to his feet, and waited. He bet himself it would be fifteen minutes before Bo came to find him. He started counting in his head, ticking the minutes off on his fingers. He had counted fourteen minutes when he heard the door burst open in the distance, and running feet coming his way. He moved carefully into the shadow of his bush and watched.
Bo was a black man, but was wearing light-coloured clothes. Miller had him in his sights from the moment he left the house until the moment he ran past Miller’s bush.
Miller waited until Bo was twenty yards ahead, then followed him. His plan was to follow him for perhaps half a mile, then grab him from behind, a rugby tackle that would bring him down. After that would come the task of relieving him of the gun he was surely carrying.
Miller didn’t have to carry out the plan. Bo, in his hurry, tripped over some prominent tree roots, and went down noisily. He stayed down, groaning. Miller suspected that Bo might have spotted him, and was acting. If so, when Miller approached, a bullet could come his way.
But Miller wasn’t going to be caught out. He circled the area, and came at Bo from the opposite direction, stealthily, taking his time. Bo head was down on his arms, still moaning quietly. Miller came up and stood quite close. He examined his position. Bo’s body was cricked, and he saw what had happened, His foot was trapped by the tree roots, and at an unnatural angle. His ankle might be broken at worst, and sprained at best. He bent down and touched Bo’s shoulders. Bo looked up, surprise in his expression. And anger, too. He lifted his right arm, and Miller saw the pistol glint in the dim light. Miller chopped swiftly at his wrist, and with the other hand took the pistol away. Like taking sweets from a baby. He checked that the safety was on, then tossed the weapon a few yards away, watching where it fell so that he could recover it later.
“I just need to borrow a few things,” said Miller conversationally. He stooped beside Bo, then suddenly grasped both his arms by the anorak. He pulled and Bo’s body started to slide towards him, to be stopped by the grip of the roots on his ankle. Bo shrieked, and let out a flow of obscenities.
“Tut, tut, such naughty words. Be brave.” While Miller was talking, he had pulled the anorak clear, and was putting it on himself. It wasn’t a bad fit.
“I really need your boots, as well. So I’ll do you a favour. I’ll extract your leg. I doubt you’ll walk on it. So when I go, just stay here. I promise that when I have dealt with your partner in crime, I’ll return, or send the police to bring you.
If you find you can walk, by all means walk back to the house.”
Whilst he was talking, Miller was checking the man’s ankle. He had done the usual army first aid courses, and he was careful not to aggravate the injury. He removed his boot carefully, and discovered it was probable that a bone was broken. Only an x-ray would confirm it. The boot came off with some difficulty, such was the swelling. Miller thought the boot was probably too big, but he put it on his own foot. By the time he had laced it up, he reckoned it was better than being bare foot. The other boot came off easier, and Miller put this on as well.
Bo was quietly sobbing.
“If you decide to try and walk, be very careful not to put any pressure on your injured foot, or you may never walk again without crutches. Good bye.”
Miller stooped and picked up the pistol. Without a backward glance he set off towards the houses.
McBride had walked up the track at a fair pace, and had not even broken into a sweat. He was fitter than he had realized. He walked across the flat ground scooped out of the hillside. And came to the fence he hadn’t seen from a distance. The darkness was not lit by the moon which hadn’t risen yet. McBride walked the length of the fence starting at the hillside. The fence was tight up against the sheer face. Close inspection showed some handholds in the rock face, but it would be dangerous to climb at night. And maybe in daylight, too. The fence was tall, maybe twelve feet, and topped with razor wire, three coils of it.
As he walked back towards the edge along the fence, he came to the gate. No entry there. Two large padlocks, maybe five tumbler, or even seven. He carried on, and came at last to the end of the fence. It protruded two feet out beyond the drop. McBride looked down, his feet on the very edge. He was not worried by heights. He couldn’t see very much in the dark directly below his feet anyway, but when he lifted his eyes he could see dwellings far below in the valley. That certainly drove home the height from the valley floor. It was as if he was in a plane looking out of the window as the plane came into land, and it had only just started the final approach.
McBride reached up and tested the rigidity of the fence, walked back a pace or two, examined the post. Set in concrete, but how deep did the foundations go? Would they support a twelve stone man swinging round on the end of the fence?
There was one way of finding out. He put both hands on the fence, high up, and with his fingers through the mesh. He lifted his feet, and hung by his arms. The fence seemed unaffected by the gymnastics. He moved first one hand and then the other, until he was out over space, and there was no more fence to go. The next move was a giant one. He had to put the left hand down the other side of the fence. A big reach, too, or he would have no room for the right hand to go. He paused for a moment. Then mocking his fear, took his right hand off the fence swung himself to the inside of the compound, grabbing urgently with right hand as his left hand was nearly cut to the bone by the thin wire.
Then it was a matter of two more handholds and he was over ground. He dropped off the fence. He felt the ground give and quickly jumped further from the edge, throwing himself flat to the ground. He heard debris bounce it’s way downwards, the sounds getting fainter. It really was a long, long way down.
From the house, Markham watched from an upstairs window. He saw the man get round the fence in such an enterprising way. At this stage he didn’t know who it was. But it couldn’t be Bo, or Miller. He continued to watch as the figure stood up, and started to walk slowly towards the house. Markham dashed down the stairs. He picked up a bottle, the only weapon to hand. He went to a downstairs window. The man was still twenty or thirty yards away. Whichever way the man went, Markham would do the opposite.
McBride could see no entrance to the house on this elevation. He decided to go right, away from the drop to search for an entrance. He was up tight against the wall now, edging to the corner. When his whole attention was focused on what was round the corner, with his pistol out now in his right hand, he felt a thrust in his right kidney. Something round and solid.
“Drop your gun, or I will fire,” said Markham. Stunned McBride let his pistol drop. As it dropped he realized he had been fooled. Markham bent down and secured McBride’s pistol. Markham waved the bottle in his face.
“Okay Mr McBride, what a pleasant surprise.” He tossed the empty bottle away. “If you carry on around the corner, there is a door. Open it and go inside. Don’t try anything foolish or I will shoot you. I do not have to keep you alive.”
The Ponzi Men Page 29
