‘You’re safe now,’ he murmured.
‘Take me home…please.’
A waiting police car whisked them away from the site.
Marcus thought of Theo, her captor. He was still free, and holed up with Maggie no doubt. They would not stop their vicious witch hunt…this was only the beginning unless he could halt this nightmare once and for all. They were relentless in this warfare they conducted against them. He would never beat them. Perhaps it was time to come clean. But how could he explain to Kara the lie he was living?
They weren’t safe, as he had pretended moments earlier, but he had to make her believe the impossible.
Where was Martin Penny when he needed him?
***
Out of sight and long gone, Theo found his car, discarded the blanket, dirty overcoat and scarf on the back seat and took stock of the situation. He’d had a lucky getaway and he cursed how quickly the police armed unit had found Kara. How was that possible? Who could have known of the disused warehouse? He had been rumbled. Thankfully, he had the foresight to watch over the warehouse from afar and in disguise, knowing this was an easier escape route if everything went pear-shaped. Better that than be stuck in the building. He was proved right. Smart bugger, he thought smugly. He would find out later who snitched on him. The plan had misfired, and now he was standing alone taking stock. Vladimir was with Maggie in Venice. He was supposed to look after things here, holding Kara captive until their victorious return. Then Kara’s fate would be decided. Now his fate was in the balance. Where was plan B?
Sweat poured down his face. He had to get away and regroup and await the wrath of Maggie later. She would be furious. And how would he deal with the other…?
He suddenly became aware of someone standing behind him. He turned slowly, pissed off that his henchman wasn’t there to protect him. What else could go wrong?
Now he knew the answer.
The stranger stood so close that his breath cooled the sweat on his skin, and Theo instinctively knew he wasn’t in a good place. This man stared with cold hard eyes: killer eyes. He was built like a soldier, his shaven head glistening under the moonlight.
Theo tried to speak but his futile utterings turned to a pitiful squeal. The final breath from his body was removed expertly as the unknown man quietly and methodically tightened a massive grip around his throat. His feet involuntarily began to kick. His brain was shutting down.
‘This is for Mitch,’ he heard the man say.
Theo’s eyes began to bulge. A red mist descended as hundreds of blood vessels began to pop and cloud his vision. Who the bollocks was..? He was sinking fast, kicking wildly. Then his arms and legs lost their strength, his hands and feet twitching. He exhaled for the last time. His body went limp. Then pitch black overcame him.
***
The plan was simple…and all they had at their disposal. Fuck this up and they were all dead, Michael was convinced of it.
At the count of three, Agnes began to wail, her voice intensifying as the seconds ticked down. Antonia banged on the door, shouting for help. Either side of her, the two men crouched with the rope lying loosely across the threshold, but tucked back and hidden against the lowest of the three steps that led down into the hut. The trap was laid.
They waited for a response. Nothing. Michael left his position and banged frantically on the door as well.
‘We need assistance!’ he shouted.
Agnes screamed again. Even Michael was convinced by her performance.
‘A woman is pregnant and needs medical help…can you hear me Maggie?’
Still nothing.
‘Vladimir, are you there?’
They each held their breath.
‘Have pity!’ Michael implored. ‘Agnes is not part of this, Maggie. You have no business to hurt her…you have me, surely that’s enough!’
They waited and then Michael signalled to Agnes to intensify the drama.
This time her scream echoed around the hut, forcing Antonia to cover her ears. It was the last chance saloon.
It wasn’t working.
‘I’ll offer them the paintings,’ Julius said.
‘What paintings?’ Michael asked, but then he understood. It was the only currency they had to trade with.
Julius made his offer repeatedly and waited. He thought he detected a shuffling outside the door and grabbed Michael by the arm. He listened too and silently resumed his position holding tight the rope.
The door unbolted and creaked inward, a tiny shaft of light penetrating the gloom.
‘Get back and shut that woman up,’ Vladimir instructed, ‘there is a fishing boat nearby. Keep her quiet, or I’ll do it for you!’
Agnes cranked up the distress by whimpering and huddling in a corner but Vlad wasn’t buying it.
‘This woman needs help urgently,’ Antonia pleaded, stooping beside her stricken body. The door widened.
‘Where are the remaining paintings kept?’ Vlad demanded.
‘I can show you,’ Julius said, gaining precious seconds.
Michael took a chance and left his position, knowing that if he spoke out his voice would betray his stance close to the door. A dead giveaway of a planned counter attack for sure, and then their game would be up if the Russian cottoned onto it. The fishing boat was their salvation. Nothing would happen while it sailed close by.
He could hear a muffled discussion from outside. Come on, come on…
Shit! The door started to close. The ploy had failed.
‘Maggie!’ Julius screamed. ‘I can give you the paintings…’’
The door held its position. Michael stared at Julius, who murmured:
‘You win, Maggie…just let us go.’
Gradually, the door began to reopen.
It was Vlad who spoke: ‘Come out, but just you. The rest stay put.’
Michael sensed a trick. He waved his finger at Julius. Sweat trickled down his neck.
‘No deal,’ Michael shouted. This was the moment.
He then slid across the stone floor, smoothly regaining the rope in his grip. It was up to Agnes to play her role again.
She groaned convincingly as the door opened further and Vladimir moved onto the first step.
‘All of you, stand at the rear so the woman can come forward,’ he barked. ‘Julius can follow after…’
Michael knew the henchman’s eyes would adjust to the darkness in a few seconds. His heart pounded. Hold steady, Julius. Just one more step…
‘We need help to lift her,’ Antonia pleaded. ‘My boyfriend has hurt his arm and Agnes cannot stand…I’m afraid for her life and that of her baby if she doesn’t get to a hospital soon.’
Michael assumed that Vlad didn’t give a stuff for any of them but the fishing boat could potentially be alerted to the plight of the captives with another scream and somehow Julius’s words had worked their trick on the kidnappers.
‘I’m armed,’ Vladimir said, his warning a veiled threat. ‘Get her to the door and I’ll lift her through…’
Christ, he stepped down! Michael could see the glint of his pistol and the profile of his ugly mug as he dropped down into the hut just inches away. Instinctively, he and Julius yanked violently on the rope so that it lifted behind Vladimir’s knees. Before he could react, they both snapped the line forward, which brought his legs up from the floor. He tumbled backwards with a clipped curse – and then silence as his head crashed against the concrete step. He was out cold. There was a delayed reaction from all of them, then a collective gasp, followed by utter mayhem.
Michael grabbed the gun, kicked out at the stricken figure to make sure he was unconscious and then braced himself against the wall for added protection for fear of Maggie being alerted. Julius in turn grabbed both women and brought them to his side out of harm’s way. There was still the small matter of one fucked-up crazy mamma with a loaded shotgun waiting for them…
The noise was deafening as the gunshot exploded into the hut, followed by a blinding flas
h which lit up the entire universe, it seemed. Splinters of wood and chunks of stone flew out from the back wall as the missile made impact. Julius was caught on the arm and face as he shielded the women. He could feel blood slowly dripping from several shrapnel wounds to his body.
Clearly the fishing boat had disappeared from view, Michael deduced. He knew Maggie couldn’t care who heard them now. She was beyond reason. She always had been. Crazy cow. It was the mad hatter’s tea party.
‘Everyone OK?’ Michael asked, regaining his composure. His ears were ringing from the blast.
‘OK,’ Julius said unconvincingly.
Then it was Maggie’s turn to join in.
‘Be a good thing if you could step outside, Michael.’
Her voice sent a chill through his bones. He had been in a similar situation at the farm. He weighed up his options. He had a small handgun, she possessed a mighty shotgun. He had nowhere to run, she stood above him with a full view of his only escape route. Not good.
‘Do you want me to come and get you?’ she hollered. ‘Or shall I simply burn you all to hell, which is my preferred choice?’
Through the crack in the door, Michael could detect the outline of bales of straw jammed up against the side of the hut. She wasn’t kidding. They were in massive trouble, and alone and isolated. Hadn’t the police heard the gunshot? Where the fuck were they?
Somehow he had to gain the upper hand, but how? It would be impossible to entice her in, as she was aware of Vlad’s fate. If they stayed in the hut for much longer, they ran the risk of her setting fire to the straw. The police were hopefully coming…but when? Michael was sure that her beef was with him, and him alone. Why the need to kill all of them? Then he recalled Julius’s odd reference to the paintings… what was that about? They must have had a deal, which he had reneged on. That’s why they too were held captive. What was the motive? Why did Maggie have such a thirst for revenge? His mind buzzed. Then he had a masterstroke of a thought.
Had she reloaded? So far she had fired off one round. If he could get her to shoot again then her gun would be empty, giving him the opportunity to fight back on his terms. But had she reloaded? Not likely, he guessed. This was lunacy – but he had to find out the hard way…
He signalled silently for Julius to help lift Vladimir up so that he was in a sitting position propped up against the wall. He was still unconscious, perhaps dead, Michael didn’t care. Between them, they lifted him just enough so that Michael could prop the body over his shoulder. It was an immense weight to support, and he could feel the sweat on his skin from the exertion. He was panting like an animal. This had better work…
He gave Julius the gun and whispered his instructions on the count of three. His life flashed before him, but the thought of Kara’s fate gave him the strength of will to try anything.
One, two, three.
Julius fired two shots into the air as Michael shouted, ‘I’m coming out, Maggie. See you in hell!’
Julius fired again and with one massive heave Michael lifted Vladimir upright and propelled him through the door. The sudden movement just after the shots from Julius had the desired effect. Maggie panicked.
A huge boom filled the night as a flash and then gunshot pellets peppered Vladimir’s body, sending him spiralling to the earth. Michael grabbed the pistol from Julius and ran up the steps, hurtling over the lifeless bloody form of his captor and, in a swirl of choking smoke from the shotgun’s blast, searched for the elusive Maggie. He heard retreating footsteps. Beyond, he could see her at the speedboat, untying the mooring rope. She looked back and grinned in his direction. Michael charged over the damp grass and onto the jetty as she jumped down and started the engine. Within a second, the motors roared into life and the boat lurched forward with a spray of foam flying into the air behind it. Michael leapt forward in the knowledge that it was now or never. This deranged monster was not getting away. It would be over his dead body.
He crashed down on the tiny deck and rolled over to protect his fall. He tried to stand but Maggie twisted the wheel and sent the boat into a series of turns. He fell and slammed his shoulder into the sidewall and dropped his gun. He watched in horror as it slid toward her.
She laughed hysterically and made a grab for it. The boat zigzagged crazily, its speed at full throttle as it skimmed the black waters. In the distance, Michael could see the lights from the shoreline. They were heading back to the mainland. And fast.
Maggie raised her arm and pointed the gun at his head.
‘Time to meet your maker!’ she shouted.
He spread his legs to gain balance. Anchored boats were coming into view at an alarming rate. They were out of control in the little boat and Maggie, he knew, was out of her mind. He was a dead man if she pulled the trigger – and she wasn’t going to miss from that range.
What he wanted was precious seconds as he frantically mapped the path of the speeding boat and calculated his only possible escape route. He grabbed the handrail. Think. Then he prepared his risky exit. It was preferable to a hail of bullets and the watery grave that was about to come his way.
‘Maggie! Maggie!’ he screamed back, counting down the seconds in his head. Think .Think. ‘You won’t get away with this…the police are after you.’
‘Die, you fucker…’ she said coldly, and then her grin disappeared as her eyes turned to cold steel. She was about to pull the trigger in another second. The boat tilted.
‘You can’t kill us all. Too many people know your game.’
She laughed insanely. ‘By morning you’ll all be dead…including that bitch Kara. We have something special planned just for her… and that boyfriend thief, the self-righteous little prick. As for you, I should have finished you in the barn. You’re a cat with nine lives. You won’t get another chance.’
The boat veered the other way. He saw the massive steel hull of a dredger loom into view ahead of them. This was it. Now.
Michael turned and dived headlong into the churning sea as the gunshots flew past his head and into the black depths beyond. He hit the icy water and sank fast. His lungs fought desperately for air. He kicked and swam upwards toward the surface. Just as he raised his head above the waves, he watched as the boat slammed into the stern of the dredger and exploded into a fierce ball of orange and white light. The tiny speed boat fragmented into a million shards of burning splinters. Maggie disintegrated in that same moment. A black oily plume shot skyward, choking the night air. Flaming wreckage floated on the lagoon. Above, red-hot debris slowly cascaded down like red rain, leaving vapour trails in the sky. No one could survive that, Michael knew.
Exhausted and cold, he trod water and tried to stay afloat in the choppy waves, his brain a whirl of confusion. Did he hear her right? A thief..? What was that supposed to mean? In the distance, he could just make out the flashing blue lights of a patrol boat skimming into view. This hell – his hell – was finally over.
He closed his eyes and imagined how death must feel, and how calm it would be… and when he finally opened them he felt his aching body being lifted forcibly by willing hands into a waiting boat.
He’d thought he was a goner…but today was not his day to die.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The debriefing at the police headquarters in Venice took four hours before Michael was finally released. He was utterly spent from the incessant questioning about how two people were found dead, in suspicious circumstances, without explanation. How could he get out of this one? He urgently needed to see Agnes, who had been rescued earlier with Julius and Antonia when he guided the police boat back to the island to pick them up. For the time being they were being interrogated separately, Antonia was in hospital suffering from shock. He knew the feeling. He was also frantic. He needed to get back to London and find out what had happened to Kara and Martin Penny. Marcus sounded hysterical. He hoped Agnes had smoothed things over with the authorities. If not, he was in deep shit.
Later, he found her in the corridor, sipping c
offee. He froze. She was not alone. Next to her was her estranged husband. It was a difficult moment. What could he say? How could he explain himself? He was a foreigner in a strange land.
She did the talking. Slowly, she lifted herself from her chair and faced him. The saddened eyes betrayed her. He knew what was coming.
‘Go home, Michael. We somehow escaped… Now we need to survive. I have a husband to look after…’
She slowly turned and smiled faintly at Adriano. He stared past her and caught Michael’s awkward gaze, then ambled out into the street and lit a cigarette, looking lost and bewildered. Had Agnes told him of their affair?
Michael too felt bewildered, and ashamed of his conduct.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all he could muster.
Agnes stroked his battered face. ‘It’s over for us, can you understand that, Michael? If anything has come out of all this, it is that I have found my family again. Will you forgive me?’
He nodded. He knew she was right. Their worlds collided for a brief, beautiful moment, but this was her life, right here, and he had no desire to invade it still further and take what wasn’t his. If only…
Michael took her hand and squeezed it. A tear crawled down her cheek. There were no further words to be said. He moved past her and walked into the sunlight and felt the warmth on his face. Adriano turned away from him, without acknowledgement. Across the promenade he saw Julius sitting in a café. He wanted to reach out to him, offer comfort, tell him what it all meant. He could not. They knew the truth, the lies, the betrayal and the greed… and the intolerable burden of guilt they all shared. Now it was over. Maggie was dead. They were free at last, and anything that he dared impart on these poor souls was another cross to bear. The ghosts were buried. It was over at long last for each of them. Once again, he walked away alone, as it had always been for him. He had no more argument in him. He was going home. Julius caught his eye. Momentarily they shared a fleeting recognition of what they had endured. But there was something else too…perhaps bafflement, or maybe a little gratitude? Contempt. That was probably it.
Call to Witness Page 25
