Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) (19 page)

taken when he first moved into the house. He spun around with the
weapon drawn, ready to end the fight
once and for all. He was not
quick enough. From where he lay
on the floor, Fegan was holding his
gun steadily in both hands, and pointing it at Jack.
“It would seem like we have ourselves a good old fashioned stand-off,
Jack,” Fegan said, through a forced smile.
“So it would appear,” Jack replied, as he toyed with the idea
of
squeezing the trigger of the pistol and taking his chances.
“What do you suggest we do about it?” Fegan asked.
“Hmm. I plan on waiting until the police arrive and then they can
take you away for the murders
of three people. Not to mention this
little exercise right here. How does that sound to you?”
Fegan smiled widely.
“As if you would let the police go through this house and find your
weapons store over there. I
can’t imagine that
even South
African
officials would be corrupt enough to be bribed into providing you with
permits for all those guns. No Jack, I think that we are both going
to lower
our weapons and then go our separate ways. How does that
sound to you?
After all, like you said, what
happened here tonight
would
be
enough to
derail the
entire
peace process
back home if it
ever got
out. How would your masters back in London feel about you
allowing that to happen? Think Jack.”
Jack knew that what Barry Fegan was saying was true.
As much
as it went against the rage he felt towards him at that
moment, he
knew that the only
possible route left
open to him was to help Fegan
get
away. The greater good would have to come first. It was just
one
more
bitter
compromise that
peace.
However, that
did not
Barry.
had to
be swallowed in the
name
of
mean that
he had to make it
easy
on

“Come on Barry, you know better than anyone how this game is
played? My government has invested so much money in this country
that no one here is going to do anything that will upset that relationship. By the time any of this reaches the news there will be no mention
of you
or me. So why
don’t you put the gun down and we can figure
out a way to get you back home without
either
of us being arrested.
How does that sound?”

stand here and face the music together. The early release of prisoners
has been hardwired into the agreement currently
on the table. There is
no such clause covering British spies. So why
don’t you put your gun
away?”

Outside the house the initial shock caused by the bomb and gunfire
was being replaced by curiosity as people began to leave their houses as
the emergency services arrived.

Jack lowered his weapon slightly as he considered the options. His
perfect aim was not his greatest weapon in that situation; his ability to
talk to people and get them to see his point
of view was all he could
use to achieve a
positive
outcome. Jack moved towards Barry. Barry
responded by following him with his gun.

“After we get through this,” Jack
explained, “I
never want to see
you again. If I do, I will kill you on sight. Understood?”
“Understood,” Barry replied.
Both men cautiously lowered their weapons. Jack walked across the
room to the door. He purposefully ignored Barry. Had Barry wanted
he could have raised his weapon and
ended Jack,
but if Jack
didn’t
place his life in Barry’s hands, if only for that moment, then he could
never build enough trust to eventually overpower him.
“Where the hell are you going?” Barry asked.
Jack stopped and he looked down at Barry.
“It has been one hell
of a long day, mate. I need a coffee,
or something a little stronger. You can sit there and play with your weapon,
or you can join me down in the kitchen. Either way, I will have that
coffee.”
Jack really wanted a whiskey over ice, but the last thing he needed
was Barry Fegan on the drink with a gun in his hand and a grudge
on his mind. If Jack stuck to coffee then Barry would probably stick
to coffee as well. His suspicious nature would not allow him to go for
anything other than whatever Jack was having. Yet another unavoidable gamble on a day in which he hadalready taken too many gambles.
When Jack arrived in the kitchen he quickly set about loading the
coffee machine as if everything was perfectly normal. Barry had yet
to make an appearance. He was clearly trying to make sense of Jack’s
actions, and until he walked into that kitchen, Jack still wasn’t sure

what form Fegan’s response would take. Jack nervously watched the
open entrance to the kitchen as he set about making the coffee. There
was no sound of footsteps from the upper level,
or
on the stairs. Jack
went to the fridge to get a carton of milk. In classic horror movie style,
when he closed the fridge door, Barry was standing
on the other side
of it with his gun pointing at Jack’s head.

Jack waited for Barry to process the question, and also for him to
make a
much more important
decision with regard to squeezing the
trigger. Barry lowered the gun.

Barry
moved across the kitchen and he took a seat at the kitchen
table. Jack sat down across from Barry
once he had finished preparing
their drinks. He set a mug in front of Barry. There was genuine hatred
in Barry’s eyes as he watched Jack’s every move. Barry raised the mug
to his lips and he took another sip. Jack did the same. Jack sniffed his
coffee and contorted his face.

Barry
shook
his
head.
Jack’s
question was
quite
deliberate.
He
knew that the
more
ordinary
he could
make the situation, and the
conversations they had, the more relaxed Barry would become.

“Jack, please
don’t do that,” Barry said. “I know all
of your tricks.
After twenty years, I know them a hell of a lot better than most of your
own spies. Some
of that information I
picked up from assholes like
you; but I got
most
of the information by feeding
one
of your predecessors feet first into an industrial meat grinder.”

Jack sipped hard on his coffee.
“Maybe it isn’t the milk that’s a bit sour,” Jack said.
There were a few moments of silence. Those were the most crucial

moments
of them all, in Jack’s
opinion, as they
both decided
on just
how sincere the other was with regard to getting
out
of the situation
they were currently facing. Neither
of them said another word until
they
had almost finished their drinks. Jack broke the deadlock by restarting the conversation.

“I take it that you had some help here tonight? You were already in
my house when I arrived home, so someone at the security firm helped
you with that. The gunman on the other side of the gates; that couldn’t
have been you either. As for the bomb; well a timer or a mercury tilt
switch are unlikely given the precise time and place that it detonated.”

“Does it matter?” Fegan snapped back.
“I suppose not,” Jack conceded. “But you know
how it is? Professional curiosity and all that? But like you say; it doesn’t really
matter.
We are where we are and we have to make the best
of this bad situation. I should probably look out through thefront door. It will look suspicious if this is the
only
house in the entire neighbourhood where no
one is showing an interest in what is happening outside.”
Barry thought about what Jack said for a few moments.
“OK then, but just a
quick look mind.
And I will be watching you
every step of the way,” Fegan said, as if he were still in control of the
situation.
Jack got up from the table and he walked through the house to the
front
door. He could have got into another battle of wits with Barry
over how neither
of them was actually in charge, but he decided that
it would do no harm for Barry to believe he was in control of the situation—less chance of any accidents that way. Barry went with him,
keeping a
short
distance
between the two
of them. Jack
cautiously
opened the front door and he peered out, to give the impression that
he
was
any
normal
person
from
the
neighbourhood who was
completely shocked and confused by what was going on.
Armed police were rushing up and down the road outside. It was
clear that they
had no idea what was happening,
much less how to
respond to it. South Africa was still a very violent country and murder
was a daily
occurrence, but when a cop was killed,
even
one so corrupt, the police, the press and the politicians always sat up and took
notice. It was the first time since Jack moved into the complex that he
had laid eyes
on some of his neighbours—or at least the unfortunate
member
of staff that they sent out to investigate as they stayed safely
behind closed doors, or in their panic rooms.
A policeman came running across to Jack.
“Go back inside, sir,” said the officer, as he gestured with his hands.
“It is not safe out here. There may be a gunman still in the area. Someone will be with you later to take a statement.”
The young
officer was clearly rattled and when he had finished
speaking Jack almost asked him if he wanted Jack to call the grown-up
police. Getting on the wrong side of the law would only have attracted
too much attention.
“OK,” Jack said.
Jack began to slowly
edge back into the house. It
did resemble a
war zone, even if it was a well-maintained war zone, with nice cars and
perfectly
manicured lawns. Jack gathered as much information as he
could as he backed into the house. There was still some smoke coming
from the other side of the wall. The Land Rover fire had clearly been
dealt with. As there were a number of police cars in the complex it was
reasonable to assume that the security gate at the front was now open;
though as that was now the centre of a double murder, Jack ruled it
out as an escape route for Barry.
“What’s it like out there?” Barry asked, when Jack came back into
the house, closing the door behind him.
“It isn’t looking good,”Jack conceded. “Thereare cops everywhere.”
They moved back through the house to the kitchen where they sat
down at the table.
“Come on Jack,
don’t hold out on me now,” Barry said. “There is no
way in hell that you
have been living in this
place and
don’t have
several escape routes mapped out for situations such as this?”
“There is another entrance at the back. Though now the emergency services have dealt with casualties at the front gate I would imagine
that they will enter and leave by the back. They’ll want to preserve as
much forensic evidence as they
possibly can. Some of them are probably already using that gate.”
“So what are we going to? Just wait it out and hope that the police
don’t come knocking on your door?”
Jack sighed.
“Barry
old mate, the police are not who I am worried about. That
cop you killed; he was no ordinary cop. He was one of Robert Theiler’s
men. When Theiler’s crew turn up to investigate what
has gone on
here, then this will be the first place that they look. They know that
the cop drove me back here.”
“What the hell did Theiler want with you?” Barry asked.