Sharp Shot

by Jack Higgins

  “Who knows,” Jade told him. “My phone’s charging up back at the cottage.”

  Rich didn’t like to think about when he’d last charged his phone.

  The lights from the car seemed a long way back. They’d gained some time, but the car would soon catch them up. Rain was falling heavily now— large drops angled in and quickly drenched Rich.

  “Right,” McCain announced. “Time to lose ourselves.” He turned the tractor towards the group of outbuildings.

  The nearest building was a Dutch barn—barely more than a roof supported by metal pillars. Hay and bags of fertilizer were stacked inside, but there was room for the tractor between them. Once through the barn, Rich could see the lights from the car crossing the courtyard behind them, picking out the bales of hay.

  McCain turned the tractor towards another barn. This one was a proper building, the doors standing open.

  “What if there’s no way out?” said Jade.

  “Let’s hope there is.”

  “Good plan,” she muttered.

  The barn was full of farm machinery. The tractor scraped past ploughs and seed drills; a combine harvester. There were doors at the back— mercifully standing open like those at the front.

  “Don’t think much of the farmer’s security,” McCain shouted above the sound of the tractor echoing round the barn.

  “He’s in the middle of nowhere,” Rich pointed out.

  Outside the barn, a grassy bank led down steeply into a large field. The edges were lost in darkness. Water was already running off the paved area and down the slope as the rain got even heavier. As soon as they were out of the back of the barn, McCain turned the tractor so it was hidden behind the building. The car’s lights spilled out of the barn as it approached.

  “Out—quick!” McCain ordered. He had to shout over the sound of the engine, the thunder, and the pounding of the rain.

  As soon as they were out of the tractor, McCain spun the wheel, pointing the tractor down the slope into the field. Guessing what he was doing, Rich grabbed a brick from a pile holding the barn doors open.

  “This any good?”

  McCain smiled a thank you, and took the brick. He braced himself against the door of the cab as he wedged the brick down on the accelerator. The tractor started to move off, gathering speed, and McCain jumped clear. He rolled like a paratrooper, coming up quickly and running with Rich and Jade for the next building.

  Seconds later, the car emerged from the barn behind them, speeding after the tractor as it careered down the hill into the field, skidding and slewing in the mud.

  “They’ll soon find it’s empty,” said Jade.

  “But they won’t know where we jumped ship, or even if we all got out at the same time,” McCain pointed out. “With luck they’ll assume we bailed out in the field somewhere and legged it. The rain will make it hard for them to find any tracks or see very far.”

  “But they’ll come looking,” said Rich. “We need a really good hiding place, and we need it fast.”

  The farmhouse would have been the most comfortable, but also the most obvious hiding place. Rich was getting tired and he was willing to risk it —their pursuers would probably assume they had jumped off the tractor in the field and escaped into the darkness. But McCain was more cautious. “Not the house. Unless you want to wake up with someone’s gun to your head.”

  There was a small hayloft above the barn. Rich was lucky to find the ladder up to it in the dark. The only light was from his mobile phone, and the battery wouldn’t last much longer. He needed to preserve it till he could get a signal and call for help. They climbed up the rickety wooden ladder, pulling it up behind them.

  It didn’t seem that the hayloft was used any more. But there was enough straw and old sacking to gather together into three makeshift mattresses. They positioned themselves so they had a good view down over the farm machinery below. The rain was hammering on the bare tiles just above them. Water trickled in where the roof needed mending.

  “What if they come back?” said Jade.

  “Stay hidden,” said McCain. “There’s no way they can know where we are. When it’s light, and we can see what we’re doing, we’ll make a break for it. Maybe flag down a car in the lane outside. But I don’t fancy trying to find civilisation in this.” His words were punctuated by another flash of lightning.

  “The farmhouse is being renovated,” said Rich. “There must be builders, workmen, someone to look after those chickens if nothing else.”

  “And if they come back and do find us?” Jade insisted.

  Rich pointed to the combine harvester below. “We’ll use that. It’s a step up from a tractor, and we can give them a damned good threshing!”

  Jade stifled a smile. “Let’s hope they don’t come back then, if bad jokes are all we’ve got going for us.”

  “We should get some sleep,” said McCain. “I’ve a feeling it’s going to be a busy and tiring day tomorrow.”

  Despite the situation, Rich managed to doze. He woke with straw poking painfully into his ear, and the first light of day creeping through the holes in the roof where the water had come through during the night. The rain had stopped and the morning was bright and clear.

  Rich’s phone still had no signal, but there was enough light to get a decent picture with the camera. So he pulled out the photograph of Dad, Dex Halford, Ferdy McCain and the other soldier, and smoothed it out. The rain hadn’t been kind to it, and the edges were ragged. But he managed to get a decent photo of the snapshot on his phone camera.

  Then he wrote a quick text message to Dex Halford and sent it together with the photo: “jade & me with mccain big trouble help!” Of course, it didn’t get sent as there was no signal. But as soon as there was, he knew it would go. Not that it would do much good if he couldn’t talk to Halford, but with luck Halford would call him back and the call would get through. Although Rich had no idea where they were, so asking for help might not be so useful…

  McCain was already awake, sitting behind a bale of hay looking out down into the barn. As Rich joined him, he put his finger to his lips and pointed down into the barn. Rich could see the silhouette of a man against the open doors, the low morning sunlight streaming past him.

  “Farmer?” Rich whispered.

  McCain shook his head. The figure moved slightly, looking round the barn, and Rich could see now that he was holding a handgun.

  “Perhaps he’s out shooting rabbits,” Jade’s voice whispered in Rich’s ear. She took shelter behind the hay bale with Rich and McCain, and together they watched the man making his way slowly through the maze of farm machinery.

  He moved with practised ease, gun at the ready. His movements were slow and measured, with sudden bursts of speed as he checked each and every possible hiding place methodically and with professional care.

  At one point, as he stepped back from inspecting the combine harvester, the man glanced up. Rich was pretty sure they were hidden in the shadows, but even so he drew back. Beside him Jade mirrored his movement. But McCain stayed exactly where he was, as if daring the man to see him.

  The man was wearing an expensive-looking dark suit with a white shirt and modest tie. His hair was black, slicked back and oiled. His face was pale brown, and weathered like old stone. One of his eyebrows ended abruptly above the eye, continuing as a pale scar that curled down his left cheek.

  For several moments he stared up at the hay loft. Rich was sure he could see McCain, but abruptly the man turned away and continued his search of the barn below.

  After what seemed an age, the man left the barn. Rich could hear voices outside, then the distant sound of a car.

  “Think we’re OK?” asked Jade.

  “Think we had a lucky escape,” Rich told her. “But we should get out of here.”

  “Agreed,” said McCain. “And despite what Rich thinks, I don’t fancy making a break for it on a combine harvester, so let’s see what the alternatives are.”

  There was
a garage behind the farmhouse. Rich thought it would probably be filled with more farm machinery, but instead there as a dirty green Range Rover. They all climbed inside. Rich and Jade got in the back, leaving McCain alone in the front.

  “You still haven’t told us who these people are and what they want,” said Jade to McCain as he got the engine started. She was leaning forward, over the back of the passenger seat.

  “Not much to tell,” he admitted. “They’re not nice people, as you’ve probably gathered. And they want money. Simple as that.”

  “What did you do to upset them?” Rich wondered.

  “They paid me to do a job. I was unable to complete it, through no fault of my own. They want their money back.”

  He put the Range Rover into gear and reversed it out of the garage on to the courtyard.

  “Maybe you should just pay them their money,” said Jade as they started down the track to the lane.

  “Maybe I should. But I’ve spent it. They’re not very happy about that.”

  “We could tell,” said Rich. “So why come to Dad?”

  “He’s a useful guy when you’re in a tight spot. And he has connections that might help. I was hoping he could bargain for me, get me more time.”

  “Ardman might help,” said Rich.

  “Dad’s boss,” said Jade quickly, glaring at Rich. “He has connections too.”

  They turned out on to the lane, heading the same way as they had the night before.

  “Best not go back to your cottage. They might be watching it.”

  “I’ll call Ardman,” said Rich. “As soon as I can get a signal. Hey—have you got a mobile?” If McCain’s was with a different operator he might have a signal.

  But McCain shook his head. “I left home in a bit of a hurry. Didn’t have time to pick it up.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Jade.

  Rich checked his mobile again. His text message was no longer in the outbox, so he hoped that meant it had been sent. But he didn’t say anything. Best not to raise their hopes until he was sure there was a good reason.

  They drove for over half an hour before they saw another vehicle. It was still very early in the morning and the country lanes were empty. A silver Mercedes pulled out of a side road behind them. It kept its distance. The car was still with them as they reached the outskirts of a village.

  “We should stop and borrow a phone or something,” said Jade.

  McCain checked the rearview mirror. “I’d rather keep going,” he said. “I think that car’s following us.”

  Rich twisted round to see. The car was still keeping its distance. “How can you tell?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  McCain slowed as they entered a 30mph limit. Another sign said: Welcome to Boscombe. The Mercedes drew closer. Rich could see the driver clearly now, but he looked very ordinary. Just a man on his way to work.

  “I think I recognise the driver,” McCain confirmed. “His colleagues call him ‘Nail’, because he’s such a hardcase.”

  He put his foot down, and sure enough, the car behind began to speed up too. At the same moment, Rich’s phone rang.

  It was voicemail. He struggled to hear the message as the Range Rover tore through the village. A second car had pulled out behind the Mercedes. Its lights were flashing, and after a moment the Merc pulled over to let the car past. It was a dark BMW. The driver was wearing sunglasses, and so was the passenger.

  The voice in Rich’s ear was hard to hear. Jade was hissing at him, asking who it was.

  “Voicemail. From Dex Halford,” Rich told her. “He must have got my text.”

  “You sent him a text?”

  “Don’t call him back,” said McCain. “They may be homing in on your phone. Maybe that’s how they found us.”

  “Can they do that?” asked Jade.

  “Oy!” Rich shouted. He’d listened to the whole message and heard almost none of it. He played it through again. The signal was bad, it kept breaking up. His battery bleeped a warning.

  “It’s Dex, I got your text, but…except to voicemail. So I hope you get this. McCain’s a good guy; you’ll be OK with him. Different story…Darrow, but never mind that. I’ll get on to Ardman, send…Leave your phone on and we can…Got to go—that’s my other phone ringing. Good luck!”

  “He’s getting on to Ardman to send help,” Rich told them.

  “How will Ardman find us?” asked Jade.

  The BMW roared up close, and McCain weaved the Range Rover across the narrow village street. He took a corner too fast, clipping a parked car. The BMW slowed, allowing them to draw clear again.

  “He said to leave my phone on. I guess they can trace it too,” said Rich.

  They were leaving the village. There were two dark BMWs behind them now, but no sign of the Mercedes.

  “Can we keep ahead of them, at least till help arrives?” Jade asked.

  “How long will that be?” asked McCain. “We don’t have a lot of fuel.”

  “And my phone doesn’t have a lot of…” Rich’s phone beeped again. The display faded and died.

  “Oh great,” said Jade. “Now they’ll never find us.”

  “So we have to get away from these jokers on our own,” said McCain. “Let’s see if we can shake them off.”

  The road ahead turned in a tight bend. McCain dropped down a gear and took the bend fast. Then he stamped hard on the brake.

  Hovering above the road in front of them, just a few feet off the ground and almost blocking the width of the lane, was a black helicopter. The side door was open, and a woman dressed in a dark trouser suit and wearing sunglasses leaned out. Her long, dark hair was blowing round her face, but she was utterly focused on what she was doing.

  She was holding a rifle, and she was aiming it at the Range Rover skidding towards her, smoke rising from the protesting tyres.

  4

  Just as it seemed the Range Rover was screeching to a halt, McCain took his foot off the brake and floored the accelerator. The tyres spun on the roadway before starting to grip and the vehicle shot forwards— straight at the helicopter.

  The woman with the rifle fired. Jade saw the flash from the muzzle. From the angle it looked like she’d been aiming for the tyres, hoping to disable the Range Rover so the men in the cars behind could catch them.

  But the Range Rover’s change of speed had thrown out her aim and the bullet thumped harmlessly into the asphalt. The woman had no time for a second shot. The helicopter was so low over the road that the Range Rover was heading straight for it…

  The pilot reacted quickly. The nose of the helicopter moved upwards. Grit and dirt was blown across the road by the updraft as the helicopter started to rise.

  “Hold on!” shouted McCain, as the Range Rover continue to accelerate.

  “We’re going to hit!” yelled Rich.

  The windscreen exploded as the Range Rover slammed into one of the helicopter’s skids. McCain pushed the crazed glass out of the way and kept going. The Range Rover zig-zagged down the narrow lane, grazing a hedge and bumping over the verge before McCain got it under control again.

  Jade turned to look out the back window. The helicopter was still trying to climb. But it was twisting awkwardly in the air, thrown off balance by the impact. It tilted too far to one side and the end of a rotor blade touched the surface of the road.

  With a wrenching of metal, the blade was torn off and went spinning away. The helicopter fell like a stone, blocking the road. The woman in the dark suit and sunglasses struggled out of the side door, which was now at the top of the helicopter.

  There was a distant squeal of brakes. Jade saw the woman knocked clear as the helicopter jolted with the impact of the BMW.

  “Way to go!” yelled Rich as they took the next bend and the wreckage of the helicopter disappeared from sight.

  “But where do we go?” asked Jade. “What if they’ve got another helicopter? These people are serious.”

  “They certainly are,” s
aid McCain. “I’m open to suggestions. We need somewhere we can lose ourselves, maybe in a crowd. Lots of people, and places we can’t be spotted from the air. Somewhere we can ditch this vehicle without it being too conspicuous.”

  “With a broken windscreen?” said Rich. “Some hope.”

  “Hey,” Jade realised. “We just came through Boscombe, didn’t we?”

  There was a brown tourist attraction road sign coming up at the junction ahead of them. Jade had already guessed what it said. McCain slowed as they approached the turn.

  Rich laughed. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

  “Ideal,” McCain agreed.

  The Range Rover turned into the road leading towards Boscombe Heights Adventure Park.

  They had to wait in the car park for half an hour for the adventure park to open. But it gave them time to make use of the toilets in the car park—not least to have a quick wash and get some of the mud off their clothes and hands and faces. By the time they’d cleaned themselves up to look reasonably respectable, there was already a queue. But as it was a school day they didn’t have to wait long before McCain was paying for tickets and they were through the turnstiles and into Boscombe Heights.

  “We should be at school,” said Rich, watching a group of children being lectured by their teacher about appropriate behaviour.

  “Tell me about it,” said Jade. “Miss Fredericks will have a fit.”

  Rich grinned. “She’ll probably try to call Dad. Good luck to her.”

  “We’ll need a note,” said Jade. “Dear Miss Fredericks, sorry Rich and Jade weren’t in school, but they were being chased by gunmen and had to escape on a tractor before having to drive into a pursuing helicopter and seek refuge in an adventure park.”

  “And she’ll say, “That’s all right this once. But make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  They both laughed. Jade was feeling the tension ease as they walked through the park. There was a semblance of normality as they joined a queue of people waiting to take a turn at a stall where you had to fish plastic ducks out of a pond with a fishing rod and line.