All Gone

by Joel Goldman

  Bullets pinged off the limo, shattering the rear window as McNulty weaved back and forth. The SUV pulled up along McNulty’s side. Dekker raised a short-barreled shot gun. McNulty jerked the steering wheel hard left, crashing into the SUV and forcing Dekker’s blast high, the impact knocking the SUV off the road and into a ditch, it’s wheels spinning in mud.

  A gravel road appeared ahead, forking off into the woods.

  “That way,” Jake said, then “Shit!”

  Dekker’s SUV had caught up to them again, bumping the limo from behind. Cassie found an ice bucket tucked under the seat, leaned out the window and threw it at the SUV, cracking the windshield without slowing its pursuit. Dekker opened fire again. Bullets crisscrossed the interior of the limo as McNulty continued weaving side-to-side.

  Cassie told Gabriel, “Give me your cloak.”

  She flung it through the back window. Soaked from the pond, it landed on the SUV’s windshield with a heavy splat, blinding the driver. He hit the brakes and careened off the road, flipping the SUV. It landed upside down, smoke belching from beneath the crumpled hood. McNulty hooted and hammered the horn as they left Dekker behind.

  FIFTY-TWO

  THEY STAYED ON THE GRAVEL ROAD until it petered out on the edge of a plowed field. There was a farmhouse a quarter of a mile away set on a small hill and surrounded by trees. There were no lights on but the tendrils of smoke wafting from the chimney suggested someone was home.

  “Stop the car,” Jake said. “I have an idea.”

  “More of them will be coming,” McNulty said.

  “I know. I’ll be quick.”

  The cabbie stopped the limo. Jake jumped out, went around to the driver’s side and opened the door.

  “Come on out. Just for a sec.”

  Frowning and shaking his head, McNulty got out. “I don’t think we have time for…” he began, as Jake slipped into the drivers’ seat, closed and locked the door. He rolled the window down a few inches.

  “Sorry about this. But you’ve done more than enough for us. If they catch us, they’ll kill you, too.”

  “You dodgy wanker!” He pulled at the locked door handle.

  “Go to that farmhouse and ask for a lift to Maidens. Pick up your car and get back to London. We’ll get you your money and more and we’ll take care of the limo.”

  Jake turned the car around and went back the way they’d come.

  Gabriel spoke up from the back seat. “That was good of you but you realize you’re driving us right back at them.”

  “And away from McNulty. Got to play one card at a time.”

  They reached the service road. Jake turned away from the direction of the castle. The woods fell away, wide pastures flanking both sides of the road, the tall grass silvery beneath the moon and stars.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. Cassie had torn off a piece of Gabriel’s shirt and was pressing it against his wound. Gabriel stared at her. She met his gaze. It was a tender and forgiving lover’s look. The last thing he wanted to see. He turned his attention to the road and cleared his throat.

  “How are you guys doing back there?”

  “I’ll live,” Gabriel said.

  “It’s a through and through wound,” Cassie said. “Missed his femur and femoral artery. All the blood makes it look worse than it is.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Jake said.

  Cassie looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror, her brow furrowed with concerns he couldn’t decipher. Afraid that he was losing her, he kept his poker face and drove on.

  A short time later, Jake saw pinpricks of light coming toward him. It was another car, headlights bouncing in the darkness. Checking his side mirror, he saw lights from two more cars closing from behind. He didn’t need to see the drivers’ licenses and registration to know who they were.

  “Trouble,” he said.

  The distance between the limo and the advancing cars was closing swiftly.

  “They’re boxing us in,” Cassie said.

  Jake pressed the accelerator to the floor and turned on the headlight high beams.

  “What are you doing?” Gabriel asked.

  “Bluffing.”

  He kept the limo in the center of the road so that no one could pass him and so that the trailing drivers couldn’t see how close the approaching vehicle was. The cars behind them sped up, keeping pace. The driver in front of them didn’t slow down at first but as Jake closed to within a hundred feet, he slammed on the breaks, spinning clockwise, wheels locked as the car slid sideways toward the limo.

  Cassie gripped the back of the front seat. “Jake, what the hell…”

  At the last instant before colliding, Jake killed his headlights and angled the limo to the right, clipping the front fender of the oncoming car before going airborne off the road and landing in the pasture. The limo shook and rattled but kept going as Jake eased off the brakes.

  Behind them, the first following car slammed into the advancing car, catapulting over it, both vehicles exploding in flames. The second following car, a large Land Rover, swerved and followed the limo.

  Jake fought the wheel as the limo rumbled over the uneven terrain until the front end fell into a narrow creek hidden by the tall grass. The rear of the limo jackknifed, then crashed to the ground. The engine died and steam rose from the limo’s hood. Stunned, Jake shook his head. Gabriel moaned. Cassie was silent.

  A bright light swept over the interior of the limo. Jake blinked, shielding his eyes. The light fell away.

  “End of the line, boyo,” Dekker said. “Out of the car.”

  Jake pushed the door open, got to his feet and leaned against the side of the car. One of Dekker’s thugs had opened the rear door and was shining a flashlight on Cassie and Gabriel, neither of whom moved or made a sound. Another aimed a semi-automatic rifle at them. When Jake turned to look at the backseat, Dekker whipped him around by his shoulder, shoved him against the car, then grabbed his wrists and bound them with plastic cuffs. Then, Dekker swept Jake’s legs from under him, leaving him laid out, face down.

  Dekker yanked Gabriel from the car, tossed him belly-first on the grass and handcuffed him after which he stepped on Gabriel’s wounded leg, smiling when he grunted in pain.

  The first thug reached into the back seat for Cassie. “I think this one’s dead.”

  “Get her out of there,” Dekker said, “and cuff her all the same. Dead or alive, I don’t trust that bitch.”

  Cassie lay near Jake, her head facing his. Her eyes were closed, her face was slack and her lips were slightly parted. His heart thumped and rage welled up within him as he promised himself that he would kill Dekker.

  He whispered to her. “Cassie. C’mon, Cassie. You can’t die…I love you.”

  She winked at him. “I know.”

  One of the thugs was nearby. “Oi, the slag ain’t dead. I heard them talking.”

  “About what?” Dekker asked.

  “Don’t know. Just heard ‘em is all.”

  Dekker grabbed Cassie by the hair and pulled her to her feet. “Playing dead, now are you? Well, you’ll be doing it for real soon enough.”

  Cassie looked him in the eye, lips peeled back. “I’ll dance on your grave first.”

  Dekker stared hard at her, his mouth turned down and grim but she didn’t back off. He looked away and shoved her toward his men.

  “Get her and the others in the Rover. Now!”

  FIFTY-THREE

  GABRIEL WAS IN THE MIDDLE ROW of the Land Rover. His chin hung on his chest and his breathing was labored. Jake and Cassie sat next to each other in the third row of seats in the rear of the car. One of Dekker’s men also sat in the middle row, gun in hand, watching them. Jake turned to Cassie, keeping his voice low.

  “Were you knocked out or faking it?”

  “I saw stars, that’s for sure. My head cleared pretty quickly but I decided to play dead until I had a better sense of what was going to happen.”

  Jake took a deep breat
h. “About what I said…”

  Cassie stared out the window. “Don’t worry. You thought I was dead. Doesn’t count.”

  The drive back to the castle took half an hour. They passed a steady stream of cars going the opposite direction filled with costumed guests from the gala. It was an orderly procession, not the panicked escape from a running gun battle Jake would have expected. Nor were there any flashing lights and sirens from police rushing to the scene. Either the gala was so loud and the castle so large and soundproof that the guests didn’t hear any gunfire or Tresch convinced them it was a fireworks display gone awry.

  Once they were out of the Land Rover, Jake and Cassie, still handcuffed, pressed their bodies against Gabriel to keep him upright.

  “You’re going to be alright,” Cassie said, and brushed her lips across his cheek.

  He smiled wanly. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  The castle door opened and Lady Tresch was led out by two rugged men gripping her arms. Still in her Marie Antoinette costume, there was a red welt on her cheek. She grimaced as she struggled to break free but the men held firm as they hurried past and shoved her into the backseat of a silver Mercedes parked nearby. Palm pressed against the window, she stared at them mouthing I’m sorry as the Mercedes drove away.

  Dekker herded them into the castle’s entry hall. Lord Tresch was waiting for them. He was wearing dark slacks with a deep blue shirt under a waist cut leather jacket, holding a thin briefcase.

  “Cut them loose,” Tresch said. “If they misbehave, shoot them.”

  Dekker clipped their handcuffs. They rubbed their wrists and when Gabriel began to totter, they wrapped their arms around his waist, keeping him upright.

  Cassie said. “This man has been shot. We have to take him to the hospital.”

  “You’re in no position to make demands, Ms. Ireland,” Tresch said. “Whether he lives or dies is no concern of mine.”

  “His name is Gabriel Degrande. You hired him to help steal the Magna Cartas from the British Library. You owe him.”

  “Yes, he was part of the crew, though I’ve never met him until now. Mr. Degrande, would you be so good as to take a step or two forward. Without the help of your friends. Let’s see how badly you’re injured.”

  Gabriel hobbled forward until Tresch raised his palm, telling him to stop. Tresch pulled a handgun from his jacket pocket. Using the barrel to raise Gabriel’s chin, Tresch studied his face and frowned.

  “As the lower class often does, Mr. Degrande forgot his place when he demanded a share of the ransom.” He whipped Gabriel across the face with his gun, opening a cut beneath his eye. Gabriel shuddered, somehow kept his feet and didn’t make a sound.

  Cassie screamed, “Stop it!”

  She started to lunge at Tresch but Dekker threw his arm around her neck from behind and pressed the barrel of his gun under her chin. It was enough to keep both her and Jake where they were.

  Tresch ignored Cassie. “That I can forgive because he’s a criminal and that’s what criminals do. But,” he said, his voice rising, his face turning crimson, “I cannot forgive that he brought you and your misfit associate to my doorstep. That is treachery,” he said, hitting Gabriel again, now shouting. “And, I cannot abide traitors.” Tresch hammered Gabriel’s head and neck with the butt of his gun until Gabriel collapsed on the floor.

  Tresch nodded at Dekker who released his hold on Cassie. She knelt beside Gabriel, glaring at Tresch.

  “If he dies, I’ll kill you.”

  “Perhaps, but if you don’t do exactly as I say, you won’t get the chance. Though I am pleased to know how much Mr. Degrande means to you.”

  “At least let me take care of him. There must be a first aid kit around here somewhere.”

  Tresch sighed. “Ms. Ireland, do not try my patience. I told Dekker to kill the three of you but, thus far, he hasn’t been up to the task. Which, is all well and good because I’ve decided you may be of more use to me alive, at least for now. So, I’ll allow you to tend to Mr. Degrande. There’s a first aid kit on the plane.”

  “What plane?”

  “The plane that’s taking us back to London, of course. We have a busy day tomorrow but you can’t go dressed in what’s left of your gown.” He pointed to jeans, a sweater and ankle-high shoes laying on a side table together with a black leather jacket. “Those belonged to Lady Tresch but she won’t be needing them any longer.”

  “Why? What have you done with her?”

  Tresch smiled. “Let’s just say that we’ve reached an unamicable settlement of our divorce. You are about her size. Put those clothes on.”

  FIFTY-FOUR

  THEY BOARDED A GULFSTREAM G650. It was waiting at a nearby airfield. There was a row of three seats against one wall of the cabin that folded into a bed. Jake retrieved the first aid kit while Cassie helped Gabriel lay down. She cut away his pants around the gunshot wound, cleaned and stitched it up, then cleaned and dressed the cuts on his head and face.

  “That’ll have to do for now,” she said to Tresch, “Where’s the whiskey?”

  Tresch nodded at Dekker who brought Cassie a bottle of single malt Scotch. She raised Gabriel’s head and tipped the bottle to his mouth. He took a healthy swallow and then another before smiling and closing his eyes.

  Jake and Cassie took seats opposite Tresch and Dekker.

  “You have a literary flair,” Cassie said. “Naming your crew after the Three Musketeers. You should have come to the gala dressed as d’Artagnan. I’m guessing Shaw is for George Bernard Shaw.”

  Tresch smiled. “A brilliant dramatist, second only to Shakespeare. I own first editions of all his plays.”

  “He is prodigiously fluent of speech, restless, excitable, possibly a little mad,” Cassie said.

  “From Man and Superman. You’re well read, Ms. Ireland.”

  “At least you fit the bill,” Jake said, “the nuts part I mean, not the Superman stuff.”

  “Enjoy your little joke while you can, Mr. Carter.

  “Got to take what I can get.” He pointed at Tresch’s briefcase. “Are they in there?”

  Tresch opened the briefcase and showed them the Magna Cartas, each sealed in a protective sheath, then closed the case.

  “Why?” Cassie asked.

  Tresch raised an eyebrow. “For the money, of course.”

  “And to embarrass Lady Tresch.”

  “Humiliate, not embarrass. Which is worth almost as much as the money.”

  “Was that worth killing Malcolm Bridges?”

  Tresch waved his hand. “He was greedy and tried to blackmail me. Entirely his fault.”

  Cassie looked at Dekker. “His handiwork?”

  “Let’s just say that like any good leader, I wouldn’t ask my people to do anything I wasn’t also willing to do.”

  “And the guards that should have been on duty that night at the Library? Did you demonstrate your leadership to them or did Dekker follow your example?”

  “Dekker is a model employee. Loyal to a fault and usually quite good at what he does. The three of you being a notable exception.”

  “Two more men died at that warehouse. Plus your goons at the castle and the ones in the cars that blew up. How many more people have to die to line your pockets and make a fool of your wife?”

  “I understand that you get the credit for one of those men. But, I take your point. If you do as I say, no one else need die. So, you see, it’s all in your hands.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean,” Jake said.

  “It means that Ms. Ireland is going to accompany whomever the Library and the Trustees designate to receive the Magna Cartas after they pay the ransom. The exchange will happen in a public place. Dekker will be my representative.”

  Cassie sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “And why would I do that?”

  “Because if you refuse or if anything goes wrong, if anyone tries to follow Dekker, if the money isn’t immediately transferred to th
e account Dekker tells you, I will cut your friends’ throats after what I promise will be very unpleasant preliminaries. There will be no second chances, no excuses. If you do not do exactly as I tell you, they will die. Do you understand?”

  Cassie nodded. That was all she could do for now. “I understand.”

  Tresch pointed a finger at her. “I hope you do for your friends’ sake.” He paused. “There is one other…small detail that you’ll have to take care of for me if you want your friends to live.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you familiar with the Codex Leicester?”

  Jake interrupted. “It’s a compilation of Leonardo da Vinci’s scientific writings from the late 1600’s. Bill Gates bought it a few years ago for thirty million dollars.”

  Tresch nodded. “Mr. Gates has sent it on an international tour of select museums. It arrived at the British Library yesterday. I should like to add it to my collection.” He handed her a cellphone. “When you have the Codex, open the phone and press 1. I’ll answer and give you delivery instructions. Your deadline is noon tomorrow.”