Sharp Shot (10 page)

Put there, Jade realised, by the man who was now sitting in the
chair. Watching her.

He was wearing white robes and an Arab headdress. His face was as
wrinkled as a prune—even more so as he smiled up at Jade. His eyes were
deep and dark, and a neatly trimmed grey beard clung to his chin. As he
shifted slightly in the chair to see Jade better, she caught sight of the
curved sword hanging at his side.

“Who the hell are you?” Jade demanded. “And why am
I here—wherever
here
is?”

The man inclined his head slightly, as if Jade had paid him a
compliment. “My name is Ali,” he said, his accented voice
deep and rich. “I am honoured to have you as my guest, Miss
Chance.”

“Believe me, the honour is all yours.”

The man pressed his hands together, fingertip to fingertip. “I
am sorry that you have to stay here for a short while. But if all goes
well, you will be able to leave in a very few days.”

“You reckon?”

“In the mean time, please—my humble house is your home. You
may swim in the pool, sunbathe in the roof garden, order what you like
from my kitchens…though I warn you they are not as well stocked as they
might be. You may walk outside the house if you wish, but I would caution
you not to go too far as the sun is hot and the desert is
unforgiving.”

“Is that a threat?”

Ali shook his head. “A statement. If you want to walk out into
the desert and die of heat and dehydration no one will stop you, and no
one will go looking. Or if you prefer there is a snooker hall, and a small
cinema with many American DVDs.” He smiled apologetically.
“No alcohol, I'm afraid.”

“I don't drink.”

“Then that will not be a problem.”

“And I'm not staying. You can get a helicopter here right now
and send me home.”

“I'm sorry.” Ali stood up. “I can make your stay
here
as pleasant as possible, but you will not be going home just yet.
Soon, I hope, but not yet.” He walked to the door, and paused for a
moment.

“Take comfort in the fact that, albeit indirectly, you are
doing my country the very greatest service just by being here. My people
will be truly grateful.”

He pressed his hands together again, bowed, and left.

The waiting was the worst. Rich hated it. He felt so useless and just
wished there was something he could do, but he knew that Ardman's team was
doing everything they could.

There was actually lots to do. And though playing billiards with Dad
in the snooker room of the enormous mansion did take his mind of things
for a while, Rich felt guilty when he remembered why they were there. And
as well as being worried about Jade, he missed her.

“What if Darrow doesn't call?” Rich asked Chance as they
played.

“He will.”

Chance sounded confident. But Rich had noticed
the slight hesitation
before his father answered him. “Course he will,” said Rich
quietly. “I mean, he has to, doesn't he.”

The absent Algernon had been good enough to leave his cook and some
of his staff behind, so there was no shortage of good food or people to
get it. But Rich didn't feel hungry and he spent most of his time sitting
at the back of the library watching Alan and Pete laughing and joking and
checking their equipment. Neither of them seemed to sleep, and they ate a
constant selection of sandwiches and snacks washed down with a
never-ending stream of coffee.

The phones rang frequently, and whenever they did, Rich held his
breath until it was obvious that the call wasn't from Darrow.

He barely slept that night. His bed was an ancient four-poster with
heavy drapes tied back from the sides, and sheets and blankets rather than
a duvet. It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable, and Rich was so tired he
couldn't get to sleep. Several times he almost drifted off, his eyes
closing and his mind clearing. Then he'd jolt awake again as he thought of
Jade or heard an owl in the grounds outside.

The call came the next morning. Rich and Chance were walking in the
extensive grounds, but keeping close to the house. Pete had routed the
cottage phone to Chance's mobile. Somehow, Rich knew as soon as it rang
that this was it.

Chance checked the number of the incoming call before answering. He
looked at Rich, and Rich could see the sudden anger and determination in
his dad's eyes. Then Chance was running back towards the house. Rich
guessed he was leaving it as long as he dared before answering. Pete and
Alan would already know the call was from the cottage number—a reroute
—and be tracing it.

Like Rich, they'd all be hoping it wasn't just an
innocent call from a friend or a double-glazing sales rep.

Rich didn't hear the start of the conversation, but as soon as they
entered the library he could hear a voice he recognised coming through the
speakers. The man who had told Rich he was Ferdy McCain—the man who now
had Jade. Mark Darrow.

“…and I'm sure you have lots of friends with you, maybe even
the resourceful Rich. The equally resourceful Jade is…” the voice
hesitated. “Well, let's just say she's safe.”

“She had better be,” Chance growled into the phone. His
voice too was amplified through the speakers.

“Oh she's having the time of her life. Let's just hope it isn't
the
last
time of her life, eh?”

Rich wanted to grab the phone and yell down it, but he knew it would
do no good. He saw his father's grip on the phone tighten.

“If anything happens to Jade,” said Chance, menacingly
calm, “you know you'll never sleep soundly again.”

“I don't think I'll be the only one though, will I,
John?” Darrow sounded upbeat and confident. In control. “So
let's make sure it doesn't come to that.”

“What do you want?”

Alan was working at the computers behind them. The monitor displayed
a map of the world. A series of numbers flashed across it, ever changing.
The map was slowly zooming in…

“I want your help, simple as that. I came to find you, John,
and you weren't there. I was in a hurry, in trouble. I had to
improvise.”

“You didn't have to take my children.”

“I suppose I could have left them there to get shot.”

“You didn't have to take them hostage.”

“Like I said, I need your help. And with Jade as my guest, I
can be sure of getting it. Right?”

The map on the monitor showed Britain. It zoomed in on the location
of the Chance's cottage. Numbers sped across the screen, and a line
appeared from the cottage heading off to the east. Alan moved his mouse,
and the image panned across, following the line. It got as far as London,
then headed off again in another direction.

“Cutouts and reroutes,” said Alan quietly.

Ardman nodded. “Do what you can,” he mouthed.

“I'm in a bit of trouble,” Darrow was saying.

“You're telling me,” Chance retorted.

“No, really. You see, I owe some people some money. Money they
paid me for certain services, which in the event I was unable to
provide.”

“You mean someone else killed him first?”

“Please, let's not be unpleasant. And sarcasm doesn't help
either, you know, John.”

Chance's jaw tightened. “Just tell me what you want,
Darrow.”

There was a pause before Darrow continued. “You remember when
we were out in Iraq back in 1990, John? You, me, Ferdy and Dex.”

“Ferdy's dead.”

“Yeah. Shame that. I thought he might be able to help me, but
it turns out you're the only one. He said even Dex couldn't tell me what I
need to know. I was hoping not to have to come and find you, John. Ferdy
was always so much more amenable.”

“Is that why you killed him?”

“Oh, please.” Darrow sounded outraged. “I killed
him because he came at me with a hammer.”

“Probably because he realised you were going to shoot him
anyway.”

“Quite likely,” Darrow agreed happily. “Now, let's
get back to Iraq, shall we?”

The line on the map was over New York now. There it split into
several lines that headed off in different directions. Alan threw up his
hands in defeat, and moved aside to let Pete take over the computer.

“Is there any point to these reminiscences?”

“Indeed there is. You see, I had a little scheme going back
then. Not much in the grand scale of things, but there's the principle of
it too, I suppose.”

“You have principles?”

Darrow seemed not to have heard the insult. “You remember I
picked up a souvenir while I was out there. A small statue.”

“I remember.”

“That you deprived me of.”

“We had to leave it behind. We had to leave just about
everything behind. You were lucky we didn't leave
you
behind after you got yourself shot-up.”

“Yes, that's true. But that statue's mine and I want it
back.”

“Yours? You stole it.”

“Well, finders-keepers and all that. Anyhow, that's the deal.
You hid that statue somewhere, or you left it in southern Iraq and now I
need it so I can sell it and pay off my debts. Oh, I know it's been a
while, but without knowing where it is and without a buyer lined up, it
was more trouble than it was worth to try to find it, or to ask you to
help. And I had other things to do to keep me busy and well paid. But now,
well, things have changed. So here's the proposition: the statue in return
for your daughter. Sounds like a good deal to me, John. Why don't I call
back in one hour and you can tell me where it is, and I'll put Jade on a
plane back home? Or something.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Chance snarled into the handset.

But the speakers relayed only static. Darrow had hung up.

The next hour was tense. Pete and Alan were trying desperately to
trace the source of Darrow's call, but the best they could offer was that
it originated “Maybe somewhere in the Middle East. Or North Africa.
Or not.”

Chance and Halford recounted the story of their mission in Iraq. Rich
was fascinated, but he couldn't see how any of this connected to current
events.

Ardman too had reservations. “I've read the file,” he
admitted. “After all, it's best to know as much as possible about
the people you recruit to work for you. But there has to be more to it
than Darrow's letting on.”

“The statue?”

“Maybe.” Ardman sucked in his cheeks as he considered.
“If the man really needs money, why doesn't he just ask for money?
Why is this statue so important to him? Or, given his rather special
skills, why doesn't he just go and steal another one from some
museum?”

“So the statue is important itself,” said Halford.

“Maybe it really is a point of principle,” Rich
suggested. “Dad took the statue from him, now he wants it
back.”

“Bit petty,” Alan put in.

“Is Darrow a petty person?” Ardman wondered.

Halford shook his head. “Practical and efficient. Vicious and
nasty. He'd kill someone for the hell of it
—in that sense he's petty. But for a principle? Tit-for-tat, after so
long? No, I doubt it.”

“It would be useful to know who he needs to pay off,”
said Chance thoughtfully. “Because it may be that's who is demanding
this statue. Or maybe Darrow upset them by promising to get it and then he
couldn't deliver.”

“Maybe it's just a priceless ancient Iraqi artefact and he
really is just after the dosh,” Pete called across from his desk.
He shrugged apologetically. “It's possible, isn't it?”

“I guess so,” admitted Chance. “It didn't look
like much, though it was very heavy. Back in 1990, Darrow was very keen to
keep hold of it.”

“Either way,” Ardman decided, “if the statue is
that important or valuable, then I don't think we want Darrow to have
it.”

“But what about Jade?” Rich blurted out.

Ardman smiled.
“Oh, I don't mean we shouldn't agree to hand it over. In fact I
think we
should
, and get
your sister back safe and sound as soon as we can. But that doesn't
mean that Darrow should get to
keep
the statue, does
it?”

“Darrow will insist on dictating where the handover takes
place,” said Halford. “We can't plan ahead till we know that,
and as soon as we do he'll have all the advantage.”

Chance turned to Pete and Alan. “You say that call came from
the Middle East.”

“Might have done,” admitted Alan. “It's possible.
Maybe even probable.”

Chance nodded. “In that case, and given that Darrow seems
desperate to get this statue back as soon as he can, I think I know
exactly where he'll suggest we do the exchange.”

“How does that help?” asked Rich.

“It helps because we can do a bit of forward planning,”
said Ardman. “And I know just the people who can help.”

“Don't do that,” said Chance.

“Sorry.” Rich had been nervously playing with the metal
beetle he'd won on the Hook-a-Duck.

They were standing in the Iraqi desert, by the crumbled remains of a
large village. Rich didn't know how many strings had been pulled to get
them here, but he still couldn't quite believe that the day before he'd
been in an English manor house, and now he was in
Iraq
.
He was standing in the hot sand of one of the most dangerous countries on
earth, about to take on an ex-SAS soldier in a deadly game of bluff…

Nervously, he gave the metal strip welded to the beetle's body one
more press. Click-clack.

Chance sighed and turned slowly to glare at him.

“Sorry,” said Rich again, stuffing the toy back into his
pocket. “I was just mucking about.”

“Well don't. It sounds like a gun being readied. Just like the
bolt action of an old 2.2 rifle, or someone cocking a pistol.”

“Really?”

“Plus,” said Chance, “it's
really
irritating.” He went back to examining the sand next to a ruined
wall. ”I brought you here to keep an eye on you, not so you could
click-click-click at me all the time.”

“Have you found it yet?” asked Rich, changing the
subject.

Chance shook his head. “I'm sure this is the one. Of course, it
was a long time ago, and there's no way of knowing if anyone else has
found it already.”

Rich looked around. “It doesn't look like there's been anyone
here for years. You sure you've got the right building?”

“No. It was nearly twenty years ago, so I'm not sure about
anything.”

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, Chance gave a grunt of
satisfaction and pulled a battered water bottle out of the sand.

“You left your water?” said Rich.

“Just the empty bottles.” He pulled out a webbing belt
and threw it aside.

Rich knelt to help, scrabbling beside his father in the sand and
rubble. Straight away, he felt something hard in the soft sand. A smooth,
rounded shape, covered in fabric. He scraped the sand away, Chance leaned
across to help.

“Well done. I think you've got it.”

Chance managed to get his hands under the rucksack that Rich had
found and lift it clear of the sand. He set it down close by and dusted
his hands together. Then he opened the top and lifted out the heavy statue
inside.

“Is that it?” said Rich, unimpressed.

Chance nodded, putting it down beside the rucksack. The statue was
earthenware or terracotta. Although it had worn so smooth that most of the
details were lost, Rich could see that it was a stylised depiction of a
lion rearing up on its hand legs.

“Were there lions here, then?” he asked.

Chance shrugged. “No idea. Maybe not, maybe that's why it's
valuable. An ancient mystery, perhaps.”

“Or a boring old statue. It's hideous.”

“It's heavy, that's for sure,” said Chance. He checked
his
watch. “Good timing. Darrow will be here soon.”

“Let's hope he's brought Jade with him.”

Chance didn't answer. He had his mobile phone out and was working the
buttons.

“You'll never get a signal out here,” Rich pointed out.

“Not trying to. I'm just going to take a couple of pictures of
our chum here.”

Chance held his phone up and snapped the statue from the front, side
and back. Then he tipped it over and took a picture of the base. It was
flat, with a slight hollow. The edge was chipped and cracked.

“Careful you don't break it,” said Rich.

Chance grinned. “There's an idea. Good one.” He ran his
thumbnail along the tiny crack and prised off a sliver.

“Here.” He gave the tiny strip of pottery to Rich.
“Stick that in your beetle and keep it safe. Might stop it making
that stupid noise too.”

Rich wedged the shard of pottery behind the metal strip that made the
click-clack noise, and put the beetle back in his pocket.

“Just in time,” he said. They could both hear the far
off sound of a helicopter.

A short distance away, their own helicopter stood immobile on the
sand. Its rotor blades drooped over the dark, bulbous body. Chance gave
the pilot a thumbs-up, and the man returned the gesture.

“Will he tell Ardman we've found it?” asked Rich.

Chance shook his head. “Radio silence for now. Darrow could be
monitoring the frequency. And so could the local security forces. We're
not meant to be here, remember.”

“I thought we liberated Iraq,” said Rich.

“There are other, less generous interpretations. Not everyone
in Iraq wanted to be liberated. And who knows what friends Darrow has
made, or bribed out here. He's had a long time to plan this, whatever it
is.”

“OK, I get the picture.” But Rich's words were swallowed
up by the sound of the helicopter coming in to land.

Sand blew round them, kicked up by the helicopter's rotors. It stung
Rich's face, and he pulled his headscarf round so only his eyes were
exposed as he blinked away dust and sand.

The rotors slowed to a halt and the engine noise died away.

“Darrow's here, and we've found the statue,” said
Chance
loudly as he led Rich out into the open. “Let's see if he's brought
Jade with him.”

They stood with their hands raised as they waited for Darrow to
emerge from the helicopter.

At last the door slid open, and a figure jumped to the ground. A
figure dressed in white, with a silk headscarf rippling in the breeze.

Jade.

Rich almost ran to her, but Chance held him back and shook his head.

Darrow jumped down beside Jade, spreading his hands to show he wasn't
holding a gun.

“So—we've got a deal, then. Do you have my statue?”

“It's nearby,” Chance shouted back. “You send Jade
over here and I'll get it.”

“You get it, so I can see it.
Then
we'll
exchange on open ground between the helicopters. Don't want you flying
away with your family and not giving me what I want.”

“As if,” Chance muttered. “Rich, get the statue.
Carefully.”

As Rich went to get the statue from the ruined building, Chance
walked slowly towards Darrow and Jade.

Jade made to run to him, but Darrow caught her arm and dragged her
back.

“It's all right, Jade. Just be patient,” Chance told
her.

“You came unarmed, as we agreed?” Darrow asked. He
licked his lips as he watched Rich carry the statue across to them.

The two groups stood about ten metres apart.

“So now what?” Jade asked.

“Now you come over to join us here, slowly,” said
Chance. He took the statue from Rich and started to walk slowly to Darrow.
“And you can have your precious statue. Then we all go back to our
helicopters and get out before the locals realise we were even here. And
you be very careful,” he said to Darrow, “because I know full
well that you're not really unarmed.”

Jade brushed her hand down Chance's arm as they passed, then she
hurried to join Rich, enfolding him in a hug.

“And you're telling me you're not armed either?” said
Darrow. Like Chance he was careful to keep the other group between him and
their helicopter at all times.

“Oh, but I assure you I'm not.”

“You'll forgive me if I don't believe you,” said Darrow,
taking the statue from Chance. “Thank you for this.”

“Thank you for nothing,” Chance told him.

Each of them backed slowly away—Chance towards Rich and Jade,
Darrow towards his helicopter.

“You disappoint me, John,” Darrow shouted across.
“I thought you would try something.”

Chance shook his head. “Not me,” he shouted back.

Then he turned and enfolded both his children in a bear hug, diving
for the ground and dragging them with him. Rich had been expecting it, but
even so the breath was knocked out of him as they landed.

“Stay down!” ordered Chance.

Over his dad's shoulder, Rich could see the sand close to Darrow
erupting. Darrow stared in disbelief as a broad-shouldered man in desert
combat fatigues leaped from the hole where he had been buried in the sand
and brought up his assault rifle.

Close to Darrow's helicopter, two more figures were struggling free
of the desert ground. One of them leaped into position by the doorway,
rifle aimed at the pilot.

A fourth figure pushed up through the sand on the other side of
Darrow—a woman, also in combat gear and brandishing a rifle.

“That woman…” Jade gasped.

“Agent Kate Hunter,” said Chance.

“She tried to rescue you from Darrow at
Boscombe
Heights
,” said Rich. “They're all CIA. Or
something.”

There was silence except for the sound of the wind as it whipped
round the ruined buildings and fallen walls. Then Darrow laughed.

“You didn't disappoint me after all,” he yelled.
“I'm so glad.”

“Really?” said Chuck White, the agent closest to Darrow.

“Really,” said Darrow. “Because it means I don't
have to feel at all guilty about this.”

He flung himself to the ground. As he fell, rolling to protect the
statue he was holding, Rich could see that Darrow had something else in
his hand too. A small, black box.

“Detonator!” Chuck shouted, hurling himself to the
ground.

Kate Hunter and the other agent followed suit. Only the American
agent in the door of Darrow's
helicopter remained standing, but not for
long, as the helicopter exploded in a ball of fire. Black smoke billowed
into the air.

Darrow ran for the cover of a broken wall, then ducked behind it.

“He can't go anywhere,” said Rich.

“Unless he's got friends near by,” said Chance.
“Friends who will have seen the helicopter go up.”

“A signal?” Jade gasped.

But Chance was on his feet, yelling at Chuck and his team. “Get
under cover—quick as you can. Move it!”

They were already moving, heading for the nearest cover. Their own
helicopter was too exposed, and too far away. They could all hear the
noise now—above and beyond the sound of the burning helicopter. Engines,
low and throbbing and getting louder and closer.

Black specs became dots, then blotches. Dark helicopters were stark
against the blue sky as they swooped low over the ruined village. Sand
kicked up all around Rich and Jade, as the deafening side-mounted machine
guns fired.

Chuck and Hunter were in the clear, but the other
American agent was
caught in the open. His body spasmed and juddered in a hail of gunfire
before he dropped to the ground.

Close by, one of the helicopters lowered itself ponderously to the
ground near where Darrow was sheltering. The rotors whipped up sand,
spraying it across the landscape.

Then there was the whoosh of a rocket. A trail of fire streaked over
the desert.

The helicopter that Rich, Chance and the American agents had arrived
in was lifting off the ground. The pilot's face was grim as he leaned over
the controls, desperate to get his craft off the ground and out of the
kill zone.

The rocket hit the middle of the helicopter and smashed it sideways
before the explosion blew it to smithereens. Rich ducked again, his hands
over the back of his head as burning debris hurtled past him.

Only as the noise gradually faded did he look up. The helicopters
were disappearing into the distance.

“You think they'll come back?” asked Jade, her voice
shaking.

“I don't think they'll bother,” said her father.
“They
picked up Darrow and the statue, that's what they came
for.”

“I thought they were going to kill us,” said Rich. He
was trembling and it was an effort to stop his teeth from chattering.

Chuck White and Kate Hunter had joined them in time to hear Rich's
comment.

“They
did
kill us,” said Chuck,
gesturing to the dead agent and the remains of the helicopter.
“We're as stone cold dead as Hal and Mike.”

“What do you mean?” said Jade.

“No helicopter, no communications,” Chance told
her.

“You've still got your guns,” Rich told Chuck.

“You can't drink guns. We've got no water, precious
little shelter, and it's a long way to the nearest oasis.”

“Ardman will send someone,” said Jade.

But Rich knew how
difficult it had been for
Ardman to get them here in the first place.

“Another helicopter
mission will take time to arrange
—probably days,” Chance told them. “And that's if Ardman
even realises there's a problem. Since we're maintaining radio silence,
it'll be a while before anyone gets worried and longer before they decide
to act.”

“Are you telling me we're going to die of heat and thirst out
here before anyone even knows there's a
problem
?”
snapped Jade.

She was probably right, but Rich knew that losing their temper would
do no good. “Hey, Jade,” he said. “It's good to have
you back, but, you know—chillax.”

She stared at him. “You
what
?”

“Chillax,” Rich repeated. “It means, like, chill
out and relax.”

Jade turned to her father. “We may never get out of this desert
alive,” she said seriously. “I realise that. But if we do, I
want you to promise me something.”

Chance looked anxious. “Depends what it is.”

“If I ever—
ever
—use the word
‘chillax',” said Jade, “I want you to shoot me.” She
pointed to the middle of her forehead. “Right here. OK?”