by Tom Benson
Taking cover under a table wasn’t much of a protection from a possible explosion. Eva decided to get out. The windows would have been the obvious choice, but both windows also had a flashing red light operating and the wires extended behind the drapes and down under the floorboards.
Eva located a small screwdriver near the computer equipment. She used it to tear up the rug and then lifted a floorboard. There was a network of wires and flashing red lights. She wasn’t about to trace every wire so resigned herself to face Simpson.
She remembered Phil’s warning and decided she would have to kill. She pulled back the slide and listened to the click as the mechanism moved forward and loaded a round into the chamber. Eva waited and listened. She held her weapon in a two-handed grip but low down to avoid tiring her arms.
It had been ten minutes, but it seemed like forever. A door closed downstairs. Eva raised her weapon into the aim. She moved forward to reduce the range and was standing no more than a metre from the door. She wouldn’t miss.
Somebody on the other side of the door started to have a coughing fit. Eva began to take a step forward but didn’t see the flashing red light go off. When the door opened, Eva squeezed the trigger, but the door opened with such force it hit the gun barrel upwards. The bullet sliced through Simpson’s left ear and embedded in the doorframe. Simpson winced, but he reacted quickly and punched the woman in the jaw.
“Hello, my pretty.” Simpson reached down and lifted Eva by the hair with one hand. When she was almost upright, he brought his other hand around to look at the blood he’d wiped from his wounded ear. He used that fist to punch Eva in the side of her head.
“Hullo all stations, this is India,” Ian called with an urgent tone. “Echo has been kidnapped by a large X-ray. The vehicle is a red Range Rover with tinted windows all around. The direction of travel is south, over.”
“Alpha roger—contact Geordie, over.”
Jacko, Hank, Errol, and Harry also responded and said they were giving chase.
“India, roger out.” Ian dropped his radio and hit a pre-select on his mobile. “Hi, Geordie. It’s Ian. We’ve got a problem, mate.”
38. Judge Mental
Phil and Jake approached the turret door on the roof expecting it to be wired. It would be a remote possibility for anybody to attempt entry from the roof. For good measure, Phil attached wads of plastic explosive to the hinges, and both men moved aside.
Five seconds later, there were no hinges and not much door. The two men went down the stone spiral staircase rapidly. When they reached the upper floor, they stopped and looked around at the bedroom doors.
“We’ll need to clear them,” Phil whispered. “We can’t afford an X-ray coming out behind us.” In a practised two-man manoeuvre, the pair cleared each room and en-suite rapidly. In less than five minutes, they were content that there was nobody above them, or in any place on the upper floor.
From down below, they heard a vehicle revving and a loud electrical whining noise. Regular and rapid metallic thuds accompanied the other sounds. The two men were on the wide stairway ready to descend to the ground floor when a woman in a black and white uniform approached the bottom of the stairs.
“Would you like to tell me—” she started pleasantly and began to squat as she reached under her skirt with both hands.
Two shots rang out. Lethal Linda Tanner fell backwards, a hole in her forehead, and another between her eyes. Two slim daggers clattered onto the parquet flooring, joined a few seconds later by the maid’s body.
A man in a smart butler’s outfit approached the staircase from the side and raised two Uzi machine guns at once. He was apparently an action movie buff, which was unfortunate. He took two shots in the head before his aim became a concern. He squeezed both triggers at once in the fraction of time before he died. The stair carpet and bannister were ruined.
When Phil saw a machine gun barrel appear around the bottom of the bannister, he leant over the railing and shot the gunman in the back of the head. He nodded to Jake and covered him as he went down the carpeted staircase. At the bottom, Jake covered Phil as he descended.
The pair cleared the dining room, trophy room and kitchen before finding that there were two doors from which to choose. One had a digital keypad, and the other led to the source of the various whining and banging noises. Phil stood beside what had to be an interior door to the garage. He nodded to the main entrance.
Jake opened the door to find five of the bikers outside, squatted down in all-around defence, pistols at the ready, acting more like infantrymen than outlaw bikers.
Jake looked at the garage and shook his head. “I fucking love it.”
Toolkit laughed. “They’re not fuckin’ leavin’ out of there.” He nodded to where he’d parked the white van within a few inches of the large door. The electric double door was bouncing out and back, unable to open.
“Okay guys,” Jake said. “We’ve cleared the roof, upper floor and ground floor, so at least three X-rays are missing. Somewhere in here, we’ve trapped Fitzpatrick, Henderson, and McGinley.”
“McGinley has done a runner,” Toolkit said. “I wouldn’t worry, though. Slash has gone after him. He won’t outrun a fuckin’ Triumph Bonneville.” He laughed. “I didn’t know if you wanted McGinley alive, so I suggested that Slash fires and misses, and then reports the direction of travel.
“Good work, mate,” Jake said.
Phil called Annabel by radio and gave her a rapid brief regarding the escapee. He added that McGinley was surplus to requirement. She acknowledged and said she’d contact Slash for an update.
Two gunshots echoed from the woodland.
“That’ll be Slash,” Toolkit nodded with confidence. “I hope he remembers to miss.”
Jake said, “I’ve got a task for a couple of you guys.” He pointed towards the area of the double grave and briefly explained the situation. Three bikers immediately ran to the site to dig.
Phil nodded towards the inner garage door and whispered to Jake. “Let them come to us.” Jake nodded, and they stood to either side of the door.
.
Spittal of Glenshee
Grampian Mountains
Scotland
Geordie had sat tight in the hotel. The longer he’d gone not hearing updates, the more likely things were not going to end well. When he received the call from Ian, his first consideration was what he could do to help. He pulled the gun from his ankle holster, chambered a round, and holstered the weapon.
It took a little time to decide which way to go. He had been out walking on the nearby hills in the pleasant weather, so he knew the only way to go was south on the winding mountain road towards Bridge of Cally.
As he set off, Geordie knew he was in front of the escaping Range Rover, so he tried to think how to slow it down. He drove the Shogun fast down the hill, and a plan unfolded. Five miles ahead, a small road led off to the east from the main mountain road.
Geordie accelerated to reach the junction before the Range Rover’s arrival. The vehicle heaved from side to side as it steered in and out of the bends. Fortunately, traffic was light, so when Geordie reached the junction, he hit the brakes and spun the wheel hard over and back again.
The big 4 x 4 skidded sideways for a few metres, rocked sideways twice, and then came to rest. Geordie reversed a little and effectively blocked the main route uphill and downhill. One camper van was approaching the junction, and the driver hit the horn and flashed his lights.
Geordie was already out of the Shogun. He stepped to the side and held his gun in the aim, but waved right, indicating the camper to follow the narrow side road. The camper slowed when the driver saw a gun. He steered in the suggested direction, dropped a gear and accelerated into the distance, the big vehicle leaning left and right on the slight bends.
Three motorists on the way up stopped and got out of their cars to complain until Geordie turned and suggested they get back into their vehicles and wait. They got back in and started to re
verse down the hill until prevented going further by oncoming vehicles. The road was too narrow for any to attempt a turn.
Geordie pulled out his mobile. “Ian, it’s Geordie. Kirriemuir junction is secured.”
Ian thanked Geordie and then used radio to pass on the message, “Hullo all stations this is India—friendly roadblock. The junction at Kirriemuir is secured. Out.”
It was the thunder of bike engines that were heard first, followed by the higher pitched whine of a bike travelling at high speed and changing gear rapidly. The noise had echoed down the valley before anybody saw the bikes. A black Kawasaki roared past the other bikes, and a red Range Rover.
The black bike leant into every bend, using the road as a racetrack. Rachel skidded to a halt over the final few metres and pulled into a passing point when still two hundred metres from the junction. She dismounted quickly, removed her helmet, and knelt beside the nearside pannier of her machine.
From the storage box, she lifted out a metallic case. It took twenty seconds to assemble her rifle. The red Range Rover past Rachel’s spot, leaning over as it was over-steered into bends, followed closely by Pedro and Slash.
When the Range Rover was less than fifty metres from the roadblock, there was a screech of tyres. The kidnapper could see he was going to be forced to ram the Shogun or turn left to evade capture, so he waited until the last moment and hit the brakes, hard.
The speeding vehicle skidded sideways and collided side-on with the Shogun, which Geordie had used as a roadblock and shield. Simpson glared at the man who had fallen to the ground. It was the guy who’d been driving Mental Mickey, and he had a gun.
Geordie got to his feet as his vehicle rolled forward, and a front wheel jammed in the ditch on the side of the road. Simpson revved the engine of his car and drove ahead, onto the narrow side road that led towards Kirriemuir. The road turned back on itself before it straightened out.
The front nearside tyre exploded when the high-velocity round hit. The car skidded wildly, but Simpson tried to drive on. The rear nearside tyre was next, and the vehicle skidded into the verge. It was beyond driving.
Rachel’s next round went through the nearside window and exited through the windscreen in front of the steering wheel. Simpson got out and went back to pull open the tailgate to grab a badly shaken Eva.
When Geordie got back onto his feet and saw that the Range Rover had been disabled, he ran along the narrow road towards Simpson. Pedro and Slash had braked violently to avoid joining the crash at the junction, but they pulled up slightly behind, and either side of Geordie.
Simpson was a big man and knowing he’d be an easy target; he lifted his captive with one muscular arm to hide his body mass. He fired indiscriminately at the three men who were approaching him on foot, line abreast. He knew they wouldn’t shoot for fear of hitting the woman.
The two bikers continued walking on either side of Geordie, both stepping down a little into the ditches on either side of the road. Like Geordie, they had weapons drawn and continued to approach the desperate kidnapper. Simpson looked from one man to the next, and a sick grin came over his twisted lips.
“You come one more step, and she’s fuckin’ dead.” He nodded and started to lift his gun barrel towards Eva’s head.
Rachel had her sights trained on Simpson, but he kept Eva held high, and continually moved her left and right so that she shielded his head and most of his body.
Geordie spoke under his breath. “Take him out when I move, boys.”
The bikers glanced at each other, both squinting and shaking their heads, and then Pedro realised the plan and shouted, “Run Slash!” He and his fellow biker ran forward on the edges of the road.
Geordie ran forward on the middle of the road, leaning left and right, occasionally aiming, but not firing.
Simpson allowed anger to be his judge as he turned the gun towards the zigzagging man in front of him. Simpson fired three shots. When Geordie was ten metres away, he took a bullet to the head.
Pedro and Slash had made ground running on both sides when Geordie had made his move. Pedro knew he was the better shot. When Geordie fell, Pedro made the call.
“I’ll drop the girl,” Pedro said quietly. “He’s yours.”
“Go,” Slash said.
Simpson was looking from one biker to the other, grinning.
Both riders remembered their day with Phil and were gripping their weapons two-handed. The bikers opened fire within two seconds of each other.
From the left, Pedro shot Eva in the lower leg. Her head went back when she screamed and then she fell forward. Simpson looked down, and when he looked up, he took a high-velocity round in the left eye, and two bullets in the forehead from Slash’s pistol.
Simpson’s lifeless arm released Eva, and she stumbled forward as her captor fell.
“Sorry about that, love,” Pedro ran forward. “I saw it in a movie—I had to try it.”
Eva fainted, and while Pedro bound his scarf around Eva’s wounded leg, Slash relieved Simpson of his gun.
By the time Eva was on Pedro’s bike with her arms wrapped tightly around him, Rachel had removed Geordie’s weapon and mobile.
“You’re a hero, Geordie,” Rachel whispered before she got up and left the scene.
The team left the two bodies and the two vehicles.
It was peculiar that after so many vehicles being held up during the event, there were no witnesses ten minutes later when the police arrived.
.
Braemar, Grampian Mountains
Scotland
Phil and Jake had waited three minutes. It was long enough. Phil reached to open the door to the garage, but the door flew open, and he came face to face with a wide-eyed Peter Henderson. Phil reacted immediately.
He smashed the butt of his pistol into Henderson’s nose and then relieved him of his unfired gun. Henderson wobbled on his feet, eyes blinking rapidly, and his broken nose gushing blood over his hands as he sobbed and held his face.
“Hello dickhead,” Phil said, pressing the barrel of his weapon against Henderson’s forehead. “I’ve got somebody who wants to talk to you.”
Max approached from the direction of the trophy room. He put his gun away, reached out and gripped Henderson by the throat and punched him repeatedly in the gut and the face.
Phil said, “Keep him alive a while longer Max. I have a suggestion for where you can deal with him.”
“Okay,” Max said, then turned and punched Henderson in the gut. He doubled up, gasping for breath. There were four hard and rapid blows to his face, and he continued to go down. When he was kneeling and gasping for breath, a size-12 riding boot smashed into his ribs. He fell forward onto the floor and didn’t register a few of the kicks he continued to take in the ribcage.
Jake walked across from the front door. “I’ve got a couple of the guys digging up those glass caskets. Those people still have a slim chance.”
Phil said, “Fitzpatrick’s not in the garage. Are we ready to go downstairs?”
“Let’s do it,” Jake said. He turned. “Give us two minutes Max, and then bring your piece of shit downstairs.” He nodded towards Henderson.
Max didn’t know why he would be going downstairs but nodded his agreement. He saw Henderson’s body move, and his head turned upward. He opened his eyes and tried to focus.
“Take a look around arsehole,” Max said. “You’ve got five fuckin’ minutes left to live.” Henderson had another taste of the size-12, but this time in the face. He coughed out three teeth and knelt on the ground sobbing.
Phil and Jake set off down the spiral staircase to the cellar. When he reached it, Phil smashed the digital pad on the wall. There was a dull bang from inside the mechanism, and the door clicked. He opened the door and dropped to one knee as a bullet struck the wall above his head.
As Simpson had done with Eva, Fitzpatrick had decided to use a woman as a human shield. Jake judged the situation and distance. He dived over Phil’s kneeling body, perf
ormed a forward roll and came up on one knee, close to the edge of the pond. Two rapid shots left Jake’s weapon. One bullet sliced through Fitzpatrick’s left calf, and the second shattered his left kneecap.
Stephanie screamed.
When Fitzpatrick let go, Stephanie Henderson leapt forward and crawled back inside the cell in which she’d been imprisoned. The heavy door closed behind her. Ironically, she was safer there.
Phil walked around the side of the pool with Jake and stood close to Fitzpatrick. Phil kicked Fitzpatrick’s gun into the water. There was a minor disturbance.
“Piranha?” Phil nodded towards the pool.
“I reckon,” Jake said. “This sadistic bastard saw them used in Colombia.” He nodded towards the defiant scowl of Fitzpatrick on the floor. “I think he should see them used again.”
“You’re not gonna fucking do that,” Fitzpatrick said, grimacing as he gripped his wounded leg. “You have to turn me over to the law.” He gasped. “I’m an escaped prisoner.”
“You’re Gordon Fitzpatrick,” Jake said. “You don’t fucking exist.”
The gangster’s eyes squinted, and he shook his head. “You know who I am.”
Phil said, “I’ll leave you two together.” He checked the cells and then opened the one that Stephanie had hidden inside. “Come on—you’ll be safe if you do as you’re told this time.”
When the woman stood up and came to the door sobbing, Phil put an arm around her and led her to the spiral stairs. As they went through the upstairs door into the hallway, Phil paused.
“Max, you can take him downstairs now.” He nodded towards Henderson.
Max still didn’t understand, but he kicked his prisoner and pushed him towards the stone staircase.
