by Tom Bale
He repeated both lines out loud and realised what was troubling
him.
Not my island but crawling.
The choice of such a specific word had jarred at the time, but he
hadn’t been able to consider its significance until now. Crawling over
my island had hit a nerve, because Joe had been crawling, literally,
to get in and out of the training camp.
And Felton had seen him.
Joe turned in the driver’s seat and looked over his right shoulder. The
entrance to the base was less than a hundred feet behind him, mostly
hidden by the vegetation that grew alongside the perimeter fence.
He swung the BMW round in a brutal three-point turn and rolled
it up to the entrance, dimming his lights as he came to a halt. As he
got out he noticed a slight gap where the two gates met, a couple of
padlocks hanging loose from the central bar. His heart did a crazy
little skip.
Joe eased the gates apart and hurried back to the car. He couldn’t
afford to be caught here when the emergency services came past:
otherwise he’d be spending the rest of the night in a cell.
Leaving the headlights off, he drove forward as fast as he dared
while navigating by starlight. The main cluster of buildings was about
a quarter of a mile away, over a low ridge. Joe recalled the feeling
he’d had that someone was spying on him from an upper window of
the terrace, and he shivered. He pictured Felton and his men waiting
patiently for Valentin’s operation to unravel. Selecting their moment
to strike . . .
As Joe pulled in close to the top of the ridge, the first fire appliances
hurtled past the camp, sirens blasting through the still night air.
Joe got out of the BMW, made sure the gun he’d taken from Liam
felt comfortable, and warily approached the crest of the hill. Shielding
his eyes from the glare of the fire to his right, he made out two dabs
of light in front of the terrace.
Another few yards and he saw the lights belonged to a Range Rover.
Its engine was still running, and the driver’s door was open. Joe felt
a surge of hope.
As he ran down the gentle incline towards the row of houses, he
noticed a weak, roving light in a window at the end of the terrace: a
flashlight.
He was less than ten feet from the house when the front door
opened and Cassie appeared, her hands tied behind her back, tape
over her mouth. Jaden was stumbling alongside her, also bound and
gagged. The sight of black tape across the six-year-old’s mouth filled
Joe with revulsion.
Cassie looked frantic with worry. She glanced behind her, then
made a screeching noise in her throat: a single long note, directed at
her son. It sounded like she was urging him to run, but either he
didn’t understand or he was too traumatised to respond.
From the doorway came an angry growl: 'Get in the car. Back seat.’
Felton emerged, Sofia propped under his left arm like an unwanted
parcel. She wriggled and let out a tiny, anxious mewling. Joe felt a
cold rage building.
Felton was covered in dust and blood, his once immaculate suit in
shreds. He had a nasty gash on his forehead and another on his upper
arm. He was holding a Maglite in his right hand. When Cassie faltered
at the end of the path, he swatted it across her shoulders. She lurched
forward and fell to her knees, her scream muffled by the tape.
'Stand up!’ Felton shouted, raising the flashlight to strike again.
Joe moved along the side of the Range Rover and stepped into
view, bringing the gun up and sighting on Felton’s chest. 'Leave her
alone.’
Felton saw him and reacted at once, hurling the Maglite at Joe
while simultaneously twisting, lifting the baby up in front of his chest.
Using Sofia as a shield.
Joe registered what Felton was doing even as he ducked away from
the flashlight, which landed harmlessly in the road behind him. He
regained his balance and made quick eye contact with Cassie,
signalling her to move clear. But she stayed on her knees, Jaden
standing helplessly next to her, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed.
Joe looked back at Felton, whose right hand was now free. He
reached into his pocket and produced a gun of his own. Placed the
muzzle against Sofia’s writhing body and said: 'We’re leaving here,
Joe, and you’re not stopping us.’
Sixty-Four
Joe felt sure that someone was going to die here. With so many elements
beyond his control, and three innocent people caught between the
two guns, he could only pray it would be Felton rather than Cassie
or the children.
He hoped it wouldn’t be himself, either. But if it was, he probably
deserved it.
'Put your gun down,’ he told Felton.
'Uh-uh. It’s still my agenda, Joe.’
You won’t make it out of here. Can’t you hear those sirens?’
'They’ve got fires to put out. No one’s going to notice me.’
And where will you go? What can you hope to do now?’
'Recover. Regroup. Make a deal.’
'Who with? Valentin’s-’ He stopped, but Felton gave a thin smile.
'Don’t worry: she knows. And believe me, there’s always a deal to
be made.’
'Not this time.’
You’re forgetting, I was never here. I can be back in France in time
for breakfast.’
And what about your hostages?’
'They’re coming with me. With some time to reflect, I’m sure Cassie
will recognise the wisdom of my proposal.’ Growing bolder, Felton
took the gun away from Sofia’s body and waved it to emphasise his
command. 'Drop your gun and move away from the car.’
And let you shoot all four of us?’ Joe shook his head. He was still
aiming at Felton’s chest. His double-handed grip remained steady, but
he remembered the test shot he’d fired in the gymnasium: a couple
of inches out. Even that margin of error would put Sofia in mortal
danger.
'I have no reason to kill them,’ Felton said, turning his gun on Joe.
'I’ll have to kill you, of course, but that’s the risk you accepted when
you took the job. A good bodyguard should be willing to take a bullet
for his clients.’
Joe said nothing. The critical moment was approaching. He’d either
have to shoot or else accept Felton’s terms and surrender his gun.
Felton saw Joe wavering and, as with Priya, assumed that he’d won
the argument. Sofia was still wriggling and moaning under his arm.
Irritated, he hoisted her up to stop her from slipping free.
But he lifted her too high. As Sofia’s head drew level with his chin,
her left hand swatted against his face and snagged on Felton’s mouth,
her fingers dragging his lower lip down. She’d done the same thing
to Joe many times, and he knew it could be surprisingly painful, especially
if you weren’t expecting it.
Felton grunted, twisting his head away from her, but Sofia clung
on. He couldn’t lower his left arm without the risk of dropping her which
would clear the way for Joe to shoot him �
�� and his right hand
was pointing his gun at Joe.
For half a second Felton was lost to indecision, his face contorted
as he tried to break the baby’s grip. His gun hand fell to his side, and
as Sofia finally released him Cassie saw her chance and sprung up,
propelling herself towards Felton.
She had difficulty balancing because her arms were tied behind
her back. As a result, it wasn’t the most cleanly delivered head butt
that Joe had ever seen. But it was undoubtedly one of the most
effective. The top of Cassie’s forehead struck Felton on the chin with enough force to snap his jaws together. Joe heard the crack of bones
breaking.
Felton reeled back and fell, blood streaming from his nose and
mouth, Cassie toppling after him, helpless as Sofia tumbled from his
grasp. Joe dived forward, throwing his left arm under the baby as she
landed, just managing to cup the back of her head before it hit the
ground.
Cassie collapsed onto Felton and rolled over, howling a warning
as Felton wrenched his hand from beneath her. He was still holding
the gun.
Joe saw the glint of madness in his eyes and knew that all thoughts
of deals had been forgotten: nothing mattered more to Felton now
than simple, savage retaliation. And Joe couldn’t get a clean shot at
him. Cassie and Jaden were in his line of fire.
'Robert!’ he shouted.
It was enough to distract Felton’s attention for a split second. The
mist of fury cleared as Felton forgot about Cassie and looked at Joe,
and as he turned his head Joe lunged and hit him with his gun hand,
clubbed him full in the face, and although Felton saw it coming there
was nothing he could do to stop it. The impact drove his head back
against the ground and knocked him out cold.
Joe leaned across Felton’s body to grab his gun but Cassie beat him
to it, stamping on Felton’s hand with her heel, then using her foot to
kick the gun out of his reach, all the time making raw, animal cries
of desperation. Her face was bright red, her eyes crazed with fear,
trapped in a place where no one could be trusted or believed, where
her children might still be stolen from her.
Joe had to take her gently by the shoulders before she would look
in his eyes.
'It’s okay, it’s okay,’ he told her. You’re safe now.’
Sixty-Five
She didn’t fully believe it until Joe had picked Sofia up and soothed
her as best he could while at the same time removing the tape from
Cassie’s mouth.
Anyone else in the house?’ he asked.
'No. We were brought here by the two men who attacked us in
Brighton. They dumped us in one of the bedrooms. I heard them
driving away.’
'Okay.’ He realised that he no longer had his knife, but he found
a little penknife in Felton’s jacket and cut Cassie and Jaden free. Then
he stood back as Cassie gathered both children into her arms and
wept tears of joy and relief.
Joe knelt down by Felton’s body and made sure there was a pulse.
It was weak, but steady.
'Is he dead?’ Cassie asked.
'Not quite. But I think he’s got a fractured skull’
'Good.’ There was no malice in her voice; barely any emotion at
all. Just a matter-of-fact statement.
'We’d better not move him. Is there any more of that tape in the
house?’
He retrieved Felton’s gun and offered it to Cassie, half expecting
her to shrink away from it. But she took it calmly, instructing Jaden
to stand behind her while she trained the gun on the unmoving body.
Joe found a roll of tape in an upstairs room and used it to bind
Felton’s ankles and wrists. It felt inhumane to treat an unconscious
man in such a way, but if they were going to leave him here while
they sought help Joe didn’t want to take any chances.
While he worked, he sensed Cassie drawing up the courage to
speak.
'It was my fault, wasn’t it?’
'What?’
You warned me not to make any phone calls. But I got so worried.
I couldn’t bear not knowing what was going on.’
Joe nodded that he understood. 'No one could have foreseen something
like this.’
'How did you find us? Did you follow him here?’
'Not exactly. I managed to work it out from what he’d said to us.’
'So it was a guess?’
'Let’s call it a professional deduction.’
Cassie smiled with him, but he could read the fear in her eyes: What if you hadn’t guessed it right?
'I can see this place made the perfect staging ground for them,’ Joe
said.
She nodded. 'Felton was boasting that he’d bought the whole camp
months ago and kept it quiet. He said he had planning permission in
the bag, too.’
My island, Joe thought. For a man with as many political connections
as Felton, acquiring the camp in a secret deal wouldn’t have
posed too much difficulty.
In a sombre voice, Cassie added: 'He also claimed that Valentin
had arranged a robbery, but tried to make it look like he was one of
the victims. Is that true?’
'I’m afraid so.’ Joe gave her a brief account of what he knew,
including Valentin’s culpability and his subsequent ambush by Felton’s
men. Cassie was disgusted but not greatly surprised to learn of Yuri’s
betrayal.
'He’s dead now, though?’
A lot of people are dead. Some of them deserved it. Some didn’t.’
Joe sighed, thinking of Angela Weaver. Cassie had a lot more questions
but he gently deflected them. This wasn’t the right time to go
into detail, especially with Jaden soaking up every word.
'Let’s go,’ he said.
He opened the back door of the Range Rover and helped the three
of them climb inside. Jaden was last in and Joe stopped him for a
second, crouching down to look him in the eye. Keeping his voice
low, he said, You’ve been a brave man today. I’m proud of you.’
Jaden coyly shook his head.
'No, you have,’ Joe told him. 'The thing is, you might need to be
just as brave over the next few weeks.’
Are more people going to hurt us?’
'No. Nothing like that. But your mum’s going to need a lot of help,
and a lot of love. Okay?’
Jaden was old enough to squirm at the mention of the L-word. 'Will
you help her, too?’ he asked. The earnest, affectionate look in his eyes
was tough to bear. Joe knew it would stay with him for a long time.
'I’m sorry, Jaden. I can’t.’
While they’d been talking, at least two more convoys of emergency
vehicles had raced past on the other side of the perimeter fence. Joe
climbed into the Range Rover and drove slowly along the access road
until he reached the BMW.
Cassie said nothing as he got out and fetched the strongbox. It was
only when he climbed in and put the box in the front footwell that
she understood what it was, and what it signified.
She started to speak, choked up, turned it into a cough. When Joe
glanced in the mirror he could see he
r eyes shining.
He drove out through the main gates and turned left, ignoring the
instinct that urged him to leave the island right away.
Within a couple of hundred yards they found the Reach more
choked with traffic than it had ever been. There were even a few
civilian cars parked at the roadside. Insomniacs, presumably, drawn
by the sight of a fire.
'Rubberneckers,’ Joe murmured, shaking his head.
From the back seat, Cassie regarded the chaos of fire and destruction
and said, with bitter sadness: 'All this for a room full of gold.’
Joe parked at a safe distance, several cars back from a hurriedly erected
police cordon. The Nasenko house was a couple of hundred yards
beyond that, still looking remarkably unscathed. Flames were blazing
in the woods opposite, but hadn’t yet crossed the road. There were
about twenty firefighters on the road itself, doing their utmost to hold
the fire at bay.
Joe got out of the car, then helped Cassie with the children. The
air was hot and sharp with the smell of the fire, the night sky obscured
by the spreading pall of grey smoke. Fragments of ash drifted around
them like blossom.
A familiar vehicle caught his eye, parked just inside the cordon.
Terry Fox’s Hummer. It was facing the island’s homes, which suggested
that someone had driven towards the fire rather than away from it.
Odd, he thought.
Then he spotted the small group clustered at the back of an ambulance.
Maria and the American’s driver were sitting inside, receiving
treatment from a paramedic.
Cassie moved alongside Joe, followed his line of sight and said: 'Is
that Angela Weaver?’
It was one of those occasions where Joe almost had to pinch himself.
They were alive. Perhaps Oliver had done the right thing after all.
Angela and Terry were in animated conversation with two police
officers. Even from this distance Joe could tell that the police looked
taken aback by what they were hearing.
Cassie patted him on the back. 'She’ll be really pleased to see you.’
Joe turned to her, his elation fading as rapidly as it had appeared.
He could see she’d mentally braced herself for what he was about to
say, but that didn’t make it any easier for either of them.
'I can’t. I have to go.’
'Because of what you told me earlier?’
He nodded. 'My false ID’s pretty good but it won’t stand up to
detailed scrutiny. And after something like this . . .’ He waved a hand
