The Ponzi Men

by David Chilcott

  Chapter 30

  Markham pushed McBride through the door to a room on the ground floor. It was lit by a candle standing on the mantelpiece of the fake fireplace.

  “Stand with your face against the wall in front of you. Lean with your hands on the wall above your head. That’s right. I will now take pleasure in shooting you. This pleasure has, alas, cost me ten million pounds.”

  McBride knew his time had undoubtedly come. He could take a chance, fall sideways and hope Markham squeezed the trigger a fraction of a second after this. Then the bullet would miss, and he had only a small window of opportunity to go for Markham’s legs before he had changed aim and shot McBride without missing this time. It was a dim hope. Markham must already have screwed up courage to shoot, and be squeezing the trigger. It was not easy to kill in cold blood. The time was – NOW.

  McBride threw himself sideways and hit the floor hard. As he did so he heard the bullet whistle past his ear. And the explosion. That was odd, it sounded like two explosions. Could he hear although he was dead? No-one had ever come back to say. He could feel the hard wooden floor beneath him, and he could move. Therefore he was not dead. He turned his head, looked straight up the wall and there illuminated in candle light was the ragged hole in the plaster where the bullet had entered. He turned further, to see Markham slumped on the floor, face down, blood seeping from his mouth. Further behind, a man was standing. A tall man filthy, covered with dirt. He was wearing an anorak, floral pattern boxer shorts and enormous boots. He had no socks on. In his hand he held a pistol.

  “Dusty!” McBride scrambled to his feet. And started to laugh. He could not stop laughing for some time. He was creased up with stomach ache from the glorious laughter that comes from relief at still being alive. That and the comic look of Dusty dressed like some clown. Brigadier indeed!

  Dusty looked puzzled. “What are you laughing for? I’ve done the thing you told me not to do. Shoot Markham. Though if I’d done that when you first came to Africa it would have saved us both lots of grief.”

  “And you wouldn’t have got your pension money back.” McBride pulled out his phone. “Don’t you think we should contact the police? They’re searching for you.”

  “That reminds me,” said Miller. “There’s a guy I left in the scrub about a mile away. Broke his ankle. He was looking for me after I went walk-about. In fact this is his anorak and boots. And his gun, come to that. I think he is Markham’s chauffeur.”

  “Let the police find him.” He pulled out the policeman’s business card. He quickly contacted the police inspector. “Hi it’s John McBride again. I’ve found the brigadier. He’s in a house, the zip code is—” McBride thought hard, and then dragged it from his memory and recounted it. The track is a bit hair-raising. If you’ve got the chopper available, it might be best. There’s enough room to land at the entrance to the enclosure. By the time you’re here, we will have found the keys, and have the gate open. We’re in the first house. Markham has unfortunately been killed. He was going to shoot me, and Miller killed him first. Saved my life. The chauffeur is in the scrub about half an hour away, with a broken ankle. I hope you’ll be able to pick him up later. Both Miller and myself are a bit shattered.”

  The policeman had several questions, and McBride spent a while enlarging on the events, and how he had tracked down Markham. Eventually he shut the phone.

  “He’s promised to be here in about an hour. I don’t suppose there is running water?”

  “No” said Dusty, and no electric. For sewage there is a hole in the garden.

  I think Bo brought some food back tonight, I’d escaped by then but that was what he went out for. Shall we have a look?”

  Dusty led the way, using the candle from the mantelpiece to light the way.

  In the kitchen several paper carriers were stacked in a corner. McBride searched through them while Dusty held the candle aloft.

  “There’s beer here” McBride searched further. “Burgers in boxes, but they’ll be cold. I’m so hungry, I don’t care.”

  He pulled two MacDonald’s boxes out, and gave one to Dusty together with a bottle of beer. Dusty took the candle to the window sill, spilled a bit of wax on the surface, and pressed the base of the candle in the pool. The wax set in seconds, securing the candle upright. With his hands free, he took his bottle, and knocked the top down against the edge of the sill, and the cap flew off. He offered the bottle to McBride, and took the other bottle and opened it the same way. They sat on the floor, backs to the window wall, and ate cold burgers and fries, and drank warm beer.

  When they had finished McBride said, “That was one of the best meals ever.”

  “This chauffeur of Markham’s brought me here in our rental, if you haven’t got that worked out. The little bastard crept into the bungalow, and I thought it was you. He came into my room suddenly, I smelled chloroform, then I was out. By the time I came round I was in the back of the car, tied legs and wrists. They kept me tied up. But while they weren’t around I unpicked the ropes and retied them so I could get free. Bo wasn’t an expert in kidnapping.”

  McBride said, “I have to get back to the campsite. I’ve got the girl’s Mazda that I borrowed. I left it down the hill.” He looked at his watch. “We should get the gate open. The chopper will be here soon. You know where the keys are?”

  “Shit. I bet Bo has got them. I was trying to avoid traipsing back there.” Then Miller smiled, and felt in the anorak pockets. He pulled out a bunch of keys.

  “I bet the gate keys are on this ring. We ought to get out there and try them.”

  They got up and Miller put the trash from the meal back in the paper sack. Soldiers are generally tidy, through years of discipline. Together they went out of the house and across to the fence round the estate. Miller went to the gate, started to go through the keys to find a fit for the top padlock. When he found it, he undid the padlock, hung it on the fence. He reached down to the other padlock, used the same key, and it worked again. McBride pulled the gate wide, and used the second padlock through the fence wire to keep the gate open. Just in time, because McBride heard the drone of a helicopter approaching. It had the lights switched on, illuminating the track, which presumably the pilot was following. He reached the open space in front of the fence, and hovered, adjusting the machine until he was happy to let the chopper down. The rotors blew a dust-storm from the dry earth, and both men on the ground turned away and held sleeves to their faces.

  Four police in black uniform with Kevlar vests and machine guns leaped from the machine first, followed after a moment by the major. He turned to speak to the pilot, and the engine was turned off, and the rotors droned to a stop, but the pilot stayed with the machine.

  The major came across. “Hello McBride, who have we here? The wild man from Borneo?” And he laughed at the sight of Miller’s clothes and appearance.

  Miller said, “There’s no water on site, or I would have showered. Very sorry.”

  “I’m sorry Brigadier,” said the policeman, “I assume you haven’t been hurt?”

  Miller shook his head.

  Together the three men made their way to the house. The armed police formed a cordon round them, machine guns at the ready. McBride led the way into the house, and to the living room where Markham’s body lay in the same position on the floor, face down.

  “So what happened here?”The major knelt down, but didn’t touch the body. “This is Markham?”

  Miller nodded. McBride went for the candle, still in the kitchen, came back with it put it on the mantelpiece.

  Miller continued. “I escaped, went into the scrub. The chauffeur came running to find me, and tripped on tree roots and broke his ankle. He’s still out there. I came back to find Markham, and crept into the house. There was Markham, with McBride face against the wall about to be executed. Just in time I shot Markham, and McBride dived sideways and missed Markham’s bullet.”

  The major spoke to one of the armed men, and told the poss
e to get into the scrub and find the chauffeur. “Take the stretcher out of the helicopter, then you can bring him back.” He turned back to Miller and McBride. “Do you want a lift back to the campsite?”

  McBride said, “No thank you. Our rental is in the garage, and I borrowed a car to get here, so I have to return it. If you need statements we will be at the campsite until at least tomorrow afternoon.”