by Vance Huxley
Holly grinned. “No.”
“Which would definitely distract me. So who? Doll is too excitable. I need someone with a cool head, but a trigger puller in case it all goes pear-shaped.” Harold chuckled. “Bess?”
“She’d shoot, but so will Matti.” Barry put a hand on Harold’s shoulder. “I’d be grateful because it’s eating her. Matti reckons if she’d fought and screamed at first, then Sandy would be alive.” Barry hesitated, then continued. “I would have lost her then because Jon at least would have knifed her, so I’m torn. Matti has sworn, with absolutely sincerity, that she’ll shoot any man who tries to take her or anybody else again. She’s got a gun under her jacket all the time and sleeps with it.”
“I’m good with Matti.” Liz looked around. “You shut up, wimp, because you don’t want to take any woman at all. Any better ideas since hot-lips is disqualified?” The rest agreed while Holly wavered between indignant and smug at the hot-lips.
Harold definitely appreciated the hot-lips part when he returned three fruitless days later. He had no idea what Matti would do to work off her frustration at not seeing Jon after spending so long watching. From the way she stomped down the road, chewing iron bars and spitting nails might be on the cards.
* * *
“He never showed for three whole days last time. Why should we have better luck this time? It’s been nearly three weeks and if he’s still hiding, maybe we’ll never see the bastard again and he’ll get away with it.” Matti put the rangefinder to her eyes and inspected the group coming out of the mansion. “He’s not in that lot.” Matti refused to use Jon’s name.
“Cadillac told me once that he couldn’t kill a man like this, wait and wait and then just shoot him from a long way away. He said that’s what makes a sniper. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’m angry enough about Jon to take as long as necessary.” Harold stretched out on the sleeping bag. “I’m also patient enough to make sure I’m alive and at the party to celebrate afterwards.”
“Ah. Put like that, I can wait.” Matti sighed. “Your turn to sleep so I’ll stop complaining for a bit.” Matti carefully crossed the roof space using the beams and looked out of a hole in the tiles at the back, and then where a brick had been removed at each end. Satisfied that nobody had approached unseen, she settled to watch the gate again.
Though despite all her patient watching Matti missed spotting the target when he finally showed up. “Matti.” Harold nudged her dozing form with a foot. “This might be it.”
Matti sat up, wide awake now. “Might? It’s the bastard?”
“Yes. He’s growing a beard but that’s Jon.” Harold offered the binoculars. “Here, double-check the back please.” While Matti did, Harold carefully slid his rifle out and set it on the crude rest of old pillows and bedding, then laid behind it. As Matti came back to look out of the front through another broken tile he worked the bolt and slid a round home.
“Clear all round. Oh yes, that’s him. Shoot him Harold, right through that filthy mouth.” Matti hadn’t told anyone exactly what Jon said to her but mentioned filthy mouths more than once. Now Matti watched eagerly as the group came clear of the gates.
“Maybe, if he’s in the right spot. If not, then hopefully when he comes back. Patience, Matti, remember the party afterwards. Now calm down and remember your job.” Harold settled in and let himself go off to the quiet place in his head, the shooting place. He aimed at the lamp post the rangefinder said stood five hundred and fifty metres away, the one the sights were set for, and moved sideways to where the men would come. Harold reminded himself of the light crosswind, and he’d burned off enough practice rounds to allow for that now. He’d also practiced shooting downwards, only eighteen feet down this time. His breathing settled.
“He’s walking away from the Mansion gate in a group. They’re laughing and joking. He’s in the group, just back from the man on our right.” Harold could hear the excitement in her voice, the eagerness, but Matti remembered what she’d been told to do and reported.
“Got him.” Jon moved into the view in Harold’s scope, partly obscured by another man. Someone must have called from behind because the group stopped. Jon half-turned to answer or hear what someone else said, as good a target as he’d ever be. Harold had a clear view between two of the others, his finger tightened just enough, and the rifle pushed back into his shoulder.
“Go, go, now.” Harold pushed the Blaser into its impromptu carrying case, slung it and started for the trapdoor. “Matti!”
“But you didn’t…” Matti shook her head and snatched at the pack with their food and the sleeping bag. “Go, I’m behind you.” The pair of them slid down the loft ladder and pounded down the stairs and Harold glanced out the back.
“Still clear.” Matti pushed past with her cycle and Harold snatched his from just inside the door. They ran down the garden, lifted the cycles over the fence, and in moments were pedalling like lunatics along a rubble-strewn road straight away from the Mansion, hidden from view by the houses and fences. Twice the pair picked up the lightweight racing cycles and crossed gardens from one street to another to stay away from the open roads, the through roads. The cycles stuck to impassable routes, impassable to motor vehicles, swerving around burned cars and jinking around rubble faster than a man could run.
Seven or eight minutes later Harold called out. “Stop.” Matti came to a halt and looked back, and both listened.
“Nothing. Cars that way but no motorbikes.” She pointed towards the east, towards the bypass. “That’s the road to our place.”
“They’ll stop at the border and probably spread out. No cars coming ahead so let’s go.” Another minute or two pedalling, and a run across a garden, and Matti cautiously looked around the corner of a house, up the short street.
“The curtains are closed so no Hot Rods.” The curtain signal used against them by the Geek shooter worked just as well when helping. Both cycles raced up the short road and the pair dismounted to run between a pair of houses and over the back fence. As they came up the side of the next house and around to the front, a pair of arms seized Harold with a whoop.
He dropped the bike to deal with a blonde whirlwind saying hello in a way that didn’t help Harold catch his breath. “Woo, let me breathe a moment. Any cars?”
“None, well not near here. There are cars that way towards the GOFS and some shouting.” Holly’s eyes were alight with pure excitement. “Did you get him?”
“I’m sure I hit him but didn’t stop to check the result.” Harold hoped any sort of body shot had been good enough, and getting away had been more important than gloating.
“What!”
“It’s all right, he got the bastard. He’s dead, Doll, he’s dead.” Matti hugged Doll then she looked round and lunged. When she turned away from Jeremy, one of the new men, he stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed until a big smile grew. Matti whirled. “Hey, Harold, why didn’t you shoot him through the head?”
“What?” Doll stared at Harold as did several others now.
Matti sighed. “I’d focussed right in, waiting for that, the head splat. Then the arse sort of crumpled sideways like he’d been shoulder charged, and a spray of red flew out behind him. The bastard went over and down and when I brought the glasses down there was blood all over the road and he was sprawled in the middle of it.” Matti grinned. “I wanted to see if he moved but someone yelled at me. So why not in the head like you always threaten?”
“Head shots are painless.” Harold shrugged. “It might not have lasted long, like a really severe heart attack, but do you think he felt it Matti?”
“Christ yes. Holly, kiss him before I do.” Harold enjoyed the kissing even if he’d told a little porky. He’d shot Jon through the chest because that had been an important shot. Harold daren’t risk missing because then Cadillac would assume all the shooting business was bullshit. At a paper target on a range, with that rifle, Harold thought he could hit a head sized target most times
and probably every time. Unfortunately he really hadn’t enough experience with this sort of outdoor shooting. One little gust of wind and he’d have missed and this time the one shot kill really mattered.
Holly’s radio lit up and Casper had a message. “I’ve got Cooper here all wound up about something. He wants to talk to Soldier Boy.”
“Hang on and I’ll see if he’s got enough breath. Tell Cooper he’s a spoilsport.” Holly grinned and passed the radio over. “Casper is half a mile that way on our border where the main road to the Hot Rods crosses over.”
“Hello Casper, what’s got Cooper’s knickers twisted?” Around Harold everyone hi-fived.
“You. He’s thinks you’ve been up to something. Are you busy?”
“I was up to something but not now. We’ll be with you soon.”
* * *
Casper, Alfie and another ten from Orchard Close were standing off three cars and a dozen Hot Rods, but doing so from cover. Harold drove straight up and got out, and the other six spread across the road behind him. “Where have you been?”
“Hey, steady up Cooper. Why am I supposed to account to you what I do here, at home?” Harold grinned. “Did Cadillac put you in charge and not tell us?”
“You were in our territory. You can’t just shoot people in here and walk away.” The Hot Rod glared, literally quivering with suppressed violence.
Harold had been going to have a lot of fun, but now he realised that an enraged Cooper would lose it and start a fight. Then Caddi would be upset about ten dead Hot Rods. “Who’s been shot and why is it me? Apart my alibi, scavenging with my girl here while whatever happened.”
“You know who was shot. It was...” Kev touched Cooper’s arm. He shook the youth off and turned back to Harold. “Let me see that rifle. I want to know if it’s been fired.”
“Sure Cooper. Providing your lot heap all your weapons in the road right there first.” Harold pointed at the tarmac in front of him.
“We’re not doing that!”
“So why should I hand over my rifle? Calm down Cooper. You wanted to see me and here I am, now is it a message from Cadillac or are you just here to annoy me?” Harold spread his hands to take in the people in the houses either side, Harold’s people. “We’re on our side of the border so I’m not going to take any crap, am I? What would Cadillac do if you spoke to him like that?”
Another nudge from Kev and a snarl from Cooper and the Hot Rod began to cool down at last, or to realise this was the wrong time and place. “You’ll hear more about this. You’ll answer if Cadillac asks.”
“If he actually asks a question, politely, I’ll answer. Remind him of that please. Politely.” Harold shrugged. “If we’re done? I was busy before you called.”
“Harold has been hunting for rodents, dog meat.” Holly hadn’t been able to keep quiet.
Cooper hesitated for long moments, and Harold knew what still wound the gangster up. Every one of Harold’s people he could see was grinning, but they were also pointing weapons. “You’ll hear from us.” Cooper spun on his heel and went to his car, and at least four Hot Rods heaved a sigh of relief. Harold stood in the road watching as the three cars left, and the rest had the decency to let them get out of sight before starting the celebration.
* * *
“That was a really good party, azshpe, eshpeshul, cos we relaxed the rules on alcohol.” Liz hooked an arm through Harold’s free one and waved a bottle. “All it needed was a blackshmith and a lummerjack.”
“Greedy.” Patty led the way, also waving a beer bottle and dancing to whatever music her head supplied.
Liz concentrated, brow wrinkled, and spoke carefully and clearly. “No, the lumberjack is for Casper.” She sighed. “The next time you’re gonna to shoot scroats, Harold, invite a GOFS.” Liz wiggled her eyebrows. “A big sweaty sooty one.”
“Don’t do that with your eyes. I’m already dizzy.” Gayle giggled, “And I haven’t self-preshcribed anaestics. Anstethics. Stuff.” She held on tighter to Phillip, one of the new arrivals. “Stop wobbling.”
“I’m not.” He smiled, “not as much as you.”
“The woman is always right.” Liz wagged a finger. “Ask any woman.” A chorus of assent and dissent came from the girl club and their escorts since the women were being walked home en masse tonight. “If you don’t agree, you can’t come to the party.”
“The party is over.” Finn shut up when June whispered in his ear.
“It is? Oh no.” Liz sang The Party’s Over as everyone but Harold and Holly went in through the gates to the girl club.
Harold watched them with a big smile, because everyone went indoors so the party wasn’t over. “Mummy Casper will need a club for that lot.”
“Mummy Casper is walking Celine home and Barry is walking Alicia tonight.” Holly sniggered. “June wouldn’t trade Finn, because she’s fed up of being walked home by geriatrics or pimply youths.”
“Finn and June?”
“I don’t think as a regular thing, but maybe June is in a really good mood and wants a goodnight kiss.” Holly hugged. “That should liven up the rumour mill now Sal is fully booked. Being locked in a cupboard together seems to have settled any doubts there. Goodnight Nigel.”
“Goodnight Harold, Holly.” They both turned to watch the brewer hurry down the street.
“He’s worried that Seth will be chasing Berry round the brewery, or that Berry has cornered Seth in the brewery.” Harold smiled. “That’s why he keeps getting drawn with Sharyn, to give that pair a bit of time to decide which.” Harold smirked. “Sharyn doesn’t mind because he’s hell-bent on getting home, not saying goodnight.”
“It’s sweet really, he thinks Berry is still fourteen.” Holly opened the door. “Cooee, are you decent?”
Sharyn replied from the kitchen. “Cheeky. Do you want a drink?”
“No thanks. I’ve just remembered something important. Come on Harold.” Holly tugged his hand.
“Ah, young love and alcohol. Just shut the door first, and the bedroom one.”
* * *
“All done.” Harold came out of the en-suite. “That’s a wicked smile. Why?”
“Just leave the light on, the little lamp.” Just before she closed the door Holly giggled. “And brace yourself.”
Harold laid and watched the end door of what looked like wardrobes. He’d slept in here three nights before finding the en-suite shower room. Brace yourself was intriguing combined with leaving the light on, given that he’d still not seen Holly in her underwear, or less. “Ready or not, here I come.” Holly stood in the doorway with one hand up the doorpost and the other on her hip, waggling a leg at him. “I can’t find the other stocking.”
“That was your stocking?” Two more of Harold’s brain cells sparked. “That’s my, er the garter Emmy had.”
“Your garter? Explaining that will be interesting.” Holly giggled. “That’s the girl club garter, donated by Emmy for each girl to use as she seals the deal. Liz is the official keeper until she scores a blacksmith.” She smirked. “My deal is sealed so Sal wanted me to get a move on with the garter part so she can borrow it, and tonight I’m a bit squiffy so?” Holly stuck out a hip and giggled again. “Do you like me in lingerie? It’s another first and maybe a rite.” Holly waggled her hips a little. “These were a birthday present.”
“I told you once that you’d be gorgeous in a set of thermals but those are even better, a lot better. Do you really want the other stocking?” Harold had put the Rambo stocking back in his memento box and didn’t want to retrieve it with Holly watching.
“Oh yes. You’ve got to put it on me first to make up the set.” Holly giggled again and her blush started, just a bit. “I’ve never had anyone else put a stocking on before.”
“I’ve never put one on anyone.” The memento box seemed less problematic, and maybe a good idea.
“I’ve never had stockings taken off either.” Holly giggled ag
ain, definitely a bit squiffy and now decidedly pink-faced. “I think that might be extra advanced. Now where’s the stocking?”
“Just hold that pose.” Harold stopped worrying and headed for the wardrobe and his memento box.
* * *
“Bloody hell, it’s all dancing, kissing and shooting these days.” Holly claimed she didn’t have a hangover, but she seemed a bit short-tempered. “I like the first two, but why does it always end like this?” She frowned. “Depending on who it is, I might shoot them just for spoiling my lie-in.”
“We aren’t going to shoot anyone, I hope. Cadillac is here to talk or we’d be hearing bangs and booms.” Harold hugged her. “Maybe he wants to borrow that garter?”
“Then there’ll be shooting. There’s at least three lining up after Sal even if the bloke isn’t sure yet.” Holly looked up “Hey, Liz, something for Sal.” She waved a bag with something small and light inside.
“About time. Wait up because I’m coming as well. Us mice need to know if we’ve got to run away.” Liz disappeared from the window even as Patty came out of the door with her new toy.
“Cripes Patty, point that elsewhere.” Harold mock-flinched.
“I cranked it ready but there’s no bolt in there. Liz is right, you’re a wimp.” Patty reached over her shoulder to her quiver. “I brought my biggest knitting needle.”
“Make it count, that one took ages to make.” Liz hurried down the path. “Everyone else who’ll pull a trigger, as you put it Harold, has already left. Except Umeko. She dithered a bit but now she’s accessorising so just give her a minute.”
It took a couple of minutes but then Umeko came out wearing a coat with the hood up to hide her face. She carried a child’s crossbow with a Liz special, and a spear, and joined them in silence though they could hear plenty of shouting ahead. Harold smiled at a line of homemade bunting, a row of triangular bits of scrap cloth on a rope, still strung between two houses. Harold hadn’t realised just how badly Jon’s betrayal had affected Orchard Close, or rather how much they resented him getting away. Last night’s party had been spectacular, noisy, and very, very happy.
